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1.25 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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□    Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag^e 

□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 


D 


D 
D 
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10X  14X  18X  22X 


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0 


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32X 


'H 


ils 

lu 

Jifier 

me 

age 


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Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
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premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  teile 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas-  '9  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symuole  V  signifie  "FIN  ". 

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film6s  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
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reproduit  en  un  seul  clinh6,  II  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


rata 


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3 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1  2  3 

4  5  6 

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TO  THE  PUBLIC, 


In  preparing  the  YOUNG  AMERICA  SERIES  Jor 
our  readers  and  the  public  at  large,  it  has  been  our  aim 
not  only  to  secure  the  best  literary  talent  available  but  also  to 
reach  as  near  perfection  as  possible  in  the  illustrations  and 
general  make-up. 

The  very  kind  reception  given  to  "  Tan  Pile  Jim  "  and 
"Dick  and  fack,"  and  the  general  demand  for  another 
volume  from  the  pen  of  B.  Freeman  Ashley,  assure  us  that 
this  gifted  author  has  struck,  vnth  his  brilliant,  wholesome 
and  instructive  stories,  a  permanent  vein  of  favor  among 
young  and  old. 

"  The  Heari  of  a  Boy''  {Cuore),  by  the  greatest  of 
modem  Italian  novelists  has  been  added  to  the  Series  on 
amount  of  its  immense  popularity  among  teachers,  pupils 
and  all  readers  of  pure  literature. 

That  the  YOUNG  AMERICA  SERIES,  having  found 

a  place  in  every  library,  may  be  the  means  of  elevating  the 

minds  of  beys  and  girls  "from  7  1070"  and  furnish  them 

at  all  times  with  healthy  recreation,  is,  and  will  ever  be,  the 

earnest  desire  of 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


y 


ERIESjor 
m  our  aim 
le  but  also  to 
'rations  and 


I 


'Jim  "  and 
for  another 
jsure  us  that 
t,  wholesome 
avor  among 

greatest  of 
e  Series  on 
•hers,  pupils 

<xiving  found 
•levating  the 
burnish  them 
I  ever  be,  the 

HERS. 


y 


"^mm^ 


hi-' 


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ifc.-j»jwc— M.,,  rtifiriillllfliil 


■I  I     Li II  li  ■■„»  HI]  l^yi^wij  I    W  I  II  HilWlwynWWiW^ 


iM»iiw*im-ifnto> 


The  Young  America  Series 


AIR  CASTLE  DON; 

Or, 

From  Dreamland  To  Hardpan 


■'3*-^] 


By  B.  freeman  >^SHLEY 

Author  of  "  Tan  PtI*  Jtn,"  "  Dick  and  Jack's  Advanturtt,"  etc.,  ate. 


ILLUSTRATED 


Some  dreams  we  have  are  nothing  else  but  dreams, 
Unnatural  and  full  of  contradictions; 

Yet  others  of  our  most  romantic  schemes 
Are  sometimes  more  than  fictions. 

—Thomas  Hood. 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  ft  LEE.  PUBLISHERS 


S  N\\\ 


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iiiaStfft'r-  ■'-''  ii'i-'-^i'r  ■■■Bi 


-fa..wr.*.  ~**t.fcM^iatr»i*»lMgt)itifeiiiiii«iiia>  rtffiMiiB^>itaiiiMm»Miw 


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EnwrM  ^sconUng  to  Act  of  Congre«  m  the  year  eighteen 

hniulr«d  and  nlnety-alx,  by 

-VtriliUAM  B.  UEE, 

m  the  oOoe  of  Uie  Ubrarlan  of  Congrwa  at  Wa8l»lnKU.n. 

(AUi  BlOHTt  KM»HV"D.l 


m 


elghtMn 


Dgloa 


WriY  NOT? 


We  now  come  to  our  readers  with  a  story  of  city  Ufe  in  con- 
tinuation of  our  experiment  of  writing  about  things  which  have 
hitherto  remained,  in  great  part,  unexplored.  The  readers  of  a 
book  seldom  have  an  opportunity  to  Ulk  back  to  an  author.  The 
author,  for  his  part,  would  be  glad  to  have  hie  readers  talk  back  at 
him;  he  would  like  to  come  into  closer  touch  with  them.  Suppose 
then  that  when  you  have  read  this  book,  you  — no  matter  what 
your  age,  sex  or  opinions  may  be  —  sit  down  and  give  the  writer  a 
bit  of  your  mind  on  this  book,  and  iU  mates,  if  you  have  read 
them.  And  while  you  are  about  it,  suppose  you  also  tell  him 
what  kind  of  books  you  like  to  have  written  for  young  people  from 
seven  to  seventy.  It  would  be  fun  for  you,  and,  doubtless,  would 
be  fun  for  the  author  also.  Send  along  your  letters.  They  shall 
be  answered  by  an  autographic  letter  from  the  author,  that  is,  if 
he  be  not  smothered  under  them  before  he  gets  a  chance  to  answer. 

Why  not  ? 

B.  Pkbsmam  Asblbv. 

Care  of  Laird  &  Lbb,  Chicago. 


■f ".      ' 


-*ir~ 


Table  or  Contents 


PAOI 

Introducca  Don  Donalda 9 

Thel^adyoftheLakcClub     .......  18 

Don  Makes  Two  Moves M 

In  the  City  of  Notions m 

An  Attic  Philosopher 50 

Looking  for  a  Situation 61 

Don  Has  a  Great  Day 79 

The  Backbone  ofthe  Black  Art 81 

Paying  for  a  Disappointment 91 

Old  Failings  Revive 100 

Deep  Water  Soundings 109 

Adrift  Again lao 

I<ook  Before  You  Leap 139 

How  a  City  Becomes  a  Thombush 138 

Spirits  in  Prison  .   , IM 

A  Perplexed  Family 167 

A  Puzzled  Youthful  Pilgrim 168 

An  Involuntary  Detective 178 

Under  Cover  Again 189 

A  Queer  Temptation 199 

A  Telling  Illustration a09 

Picking  Up  a  Protege ai9 

Talking  Through  His  Hat asi 

In  a  Predicament       949 

Keeping  a  Contract 35I 

A  Frustrated  Threat 268 

An  Elopement a7S 

A  Breathing  Spell , 

An  Enlargement  of  the  Heart M4 

As  The>  Sailed,  As  They  Sailed 805 

On  Hannah  Screechum's  Island 817 

A  Parting  Look  Into  the  Kaleidoscope   ....  881 


^■liW«liMiiiiii"-|tY-i  I  III 


ijiiiypp.^^iiiita»|iwM 


AIR  CASTLE  DON; 


Or,  From  Dreamland  to  Hardpan. 


CHAPTER   I. 


INTRODUCES  DON   DONALDS. 

It  is  possible  for  a  boy  to  keep  still,  and  that,  too,  without 
being  either  crippled  or  dumb,  asleep  or  dead.  For  instance, 
there  was  Don  Donalds.  He  sat  upon  a  grassy  bluff  below 
which  there  was  a  raceway  through  which  rapid  water  tinkled 
with  perpetual  music,  and  beyond  which  was  a  rocky  islet 
dividing  the  raceway  from  a  small  river  that  ran  over  a  stony 
bottom  to  a  deep  pool  a  short  distance  below.  His  back  rested 
against  a  mossy  stonewall  built  by  pioneers  whose  very  mem- 
ory had  perished  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Behind  the  wall 
there  was  an  old  apple  orchard  that  was  a  Mecca  for  boy 
pilgrims  from  t'le  time  of  the  earliest  green  apple  to  the  time 
when  the  last  frost-mellowed  one  hung  on  the  topmost  bough 
a  sun-painted  prize  for  him  who  had  a  searching  eye  and  enter- 
prising legs  and  hands.  When  Don  sat  there  the  spring  birds, 
holding  undisputed  possession,  were  experiencing  the  song- 
provoking  raptures  of  mating  and  nest  building,  while  the 
wind  stirred  through  the  leaves  whispering  strange  stories  o£ 
its  adventures  in  earth  and  sky. 

(9) 


"'>iirti)iii*»iii  'iiii'iT'''T'rnriiiniWiliMi^ 


■mLmmm 


10 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


One  patriarchal  tree,  whose  juices  ran  to  sweet  apples, 
stretched  a  long  sturdy  branch  over  the  wall  and  held  a  thick 
canopy  of  leaves  over  the  boy's  head  to  protec'  him  from  the 
rati.er  fervid  heat  of  the  rapidly  nooning  sun.  Two  robins  had 
selected  the  very  center  of  the  canopy  for  their  nest,  and  as  it 
was  not  among  their  calculations  to  have  a  boy  so  near,  they 
scolded  at  him  from  above,  and  in  their  restless  protests  against 
his  intrusion  shook  down  showers  of  blossoms  upon  him. 
Perceiving  that  he  took  no  notice  of  their  presence,  and  was 
as  still  as  the  stones  against  which  he  leaned,  they  went  about 
their  business.  A  chipmonk,  however,  seemed  to  take  up  the 
fears  they  had  discarded.  He  was  making  a  journey  on  the 
top  of  the  wall,  and  coming  to  where  Don  sat,  he  gave  him 
notice  to  get  out  of  the  way  by  scolding  at  him  with  a  series 
of  diminutive  barks  that  sounded  like  the  abdominal  squeaks 
of  a  toy  dog.  As  no  notice  was  taken  of  him  he  sat  up  c  :  the 
topmost  stone  of  the  wall,  and  for  a  moment  meditated  in 
silence.  What  manner  of  boy  could  this  boy  be  that  would 
let  a  chipmonk  come  in  sight  without  attempting  to  molest 
him,  and  that,  too,  when  pebbles  were  within  reach  of  hand? 
He  ran  by,  and  not  satisfied  with  his  meditations,  sat  up  again 
and  whisked  his  tail  in  another  attempt  to  solve  the  mystery 
surrounding  the  still  figure.  He  could  see  that  Don's  eyes 
were  open,  and  that  his  chest  gave  evidence  of .  his  being 
breathingly  alive,  but  that  was  about  all.  The>  chipmonk 
passed  on  his  way,  but  his  subdued  manner  said  as  plainly  as 
any  manner  could,  "I  give  it  up.  That  boy  beats  any  nut  I 
ever  attempted  to  crack." 

There  was  nothing  mentally  or  physically  wrong  with  Don 
that  he  should  keep  so  phenomenally  still.  His  dark,  viva- 
cious eyes  were  filled  with  -slumbering  fires  of  thought,  and  his 
lively  face  and  reasonably  stalwart  linidbs  gave  countenance  to 


I 


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-   ,J^.,Am*»- 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


11 


the  supposition  that  he  was  at  that  stage  of  his  existence  when 
the  monkey  propensities  of  human  nature  are  at  their  highest. 
He,  in  fact,  could  clear  a  wall  at  a  bound,  and  vie  with  any 
noises  common  to  the  average  boy  throat,  and  was  not  slow  to 
join  in  the  athletic  sports  or  roystering  rackets  of  his  fellow 
boys. 

Perhaps  he  was  looking  at  things  around  h'm,  and  listening 
to  the  varied  sounds  that  punctured  the  silence  of  the  scenery. 
Swallows  and  martins  raced  dizzily  in  the  air  and  occasionally 
dipped  with  crazy  motions  into  the  waters  of  the  stream. 
A  milk-white  flock  of  geese  squatted  on  the  green  grass  of  the 
islet  pluming  their  feathers  and  quacking  about  their  adven- 
tures in  the  pool  below.  Beyond  them  a  dozen  or  more  of 
crows  were  quarrelling  over  a  herring  that  one  of  them  had 
pulled  from  among  the  shore  rocks  of  the  stream.  A  fish- 
hawk  circled  high  in  the  sky  above  them  watching  for  a  chance 
to  descend  and  claim  the  herring  for  his  own,  or  to  make  a 
swoop  upon  some  of  the  trout  that;  ignorant  of  danger,  occa- 
sionally shot  above  the  surface  of  the  water  in  pursuit  of  insects 
hovering  temptingly  near. 

On  the  far  side  of  the  stream,  the  stones  of  the  village  grist- 
mill monotonously  grumbled  as  they  ground  out  their  daily 
grist  of  oats  and  barley.  On  the  near  side,  the  single  saw  of  a 
dilapidated  sawmill  growled  hoarsely  as  it  danced  up  and  down 
and  struck  its  big  teeth  into  the  vitals  of  a  great  oaken  log  that 
was  being  turned  into  ship  plank.  Above  the  bridge  which 
crossed  below  the  mills  the  low,  vibrant  thunder  of  the  dam 
predominated  over  all  other  sounds,  reducing  them  to  a  gen- 
eral harmony,  so  that  even  the  whang  of  the  blacksmith's 
sledge,  and  the  whock  of  the  carpenter's  hammer  striking  on 
the  other  side  of  the  stream  were  made  tributary  to  the 
concord. 


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12 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Btit  Don  was  paying  no  attention  to  things  visible  or 
audible;  and  he  remained  as  silent  as  the  vacant  church,  school- 
house  and  courthouse  that  formed  the  still  group  of  public 
buildings  on  the  far  side  of  the  stream.  A  cow  with  a  bell  at 
her  throat  came  up  the  bluff  and  tinkingly  grazed  her  way  to 
his  feet  without  having  any  more  notice  taken  of  her,  or  of  her 
gently  surprised  moo  than  if  she  were  not  put  on  four  legs  for 
boys  to  throw  stones  at  or  to  torment  in  sundry  other  ways. 
Like  the  robins  and  the  chipmonk,  she  wondered  at  him 
awhile,  asking  all  sorts  of  questions  of  her  internal  self  and 
then  passed  munchingly  on  to  where  taller  blades  of  grass 
invited  the  coil  of  her  industrious  tongue. 

Don  had  removed  his  hat— a  curious  chip  made  from  the 
strippings  of  a  birch  by  an  ancient  Indian  squaw  for  his 
especial  benefit — and  had  put  it  over  a  small  flat  stone  to  the 
great  terror  of  a  pair  of  field  mice  that  had  been  watching  him 
from  beneath.  Don  was  reading  a  book;  and  this  was  the 
secret  of  his  apparent  indifference  to  things  in  Heaven,  things 
on  earth  and  things  under  the  earth.  The  book  was  so  absorb- 
ing that  the  whole  outer  world  was  as  if  it  were  not. 

Not  far  distant,  standing  upon  the  middle  bridge  of  the 
thrice  divided  stream,  and  leaning  upon  the  rail  was  another 
figure  almost  as  motionless  as  Don  himself.  It  was  the  figfure 
of  an  old  Scotch  flsherman,  who  had  wandered  around  the 
world  so  long  and  had  seen  so  much  of  human  nature,  and, 
other  things,  that  his  chief  refrain  was  "  Vanity  of  vanities;  all 
is  vanity."  This  was  Peter  Piper  of  whom  Madge,  Don's 
sister,  declared,  that  he  was  the  very  Peter  who  picked  a  peck 
of  pickled  peppers — the  Peter  Piper  of  the  pronouncing  puzzle 
that  Avard  Doane,  the  village  schoolmaster  used  to  test  his 
thick-speeched  pupils  by.  And  she  further  declared  that  there 
was  no  need  of  asking,  Where's  the  peck  of  pickled  peppers 


"^^gPjfiW '".-.".  •  ^'^"''t  jwv-j;^vtV!.f«i!!^/«')5iPVwp*?w^f!V''^^     ■■f'WjHPWyyi^^yi.y 


AIR    OASTCB    DON 


18 


lible  or 
school- 
public 
bell  at 
way  to 

ir  of  her 
egs  for 

•r  ways, 
at  him 

self  and 

of  grass 


that  Peter  Piper  picked?  for  he  carried  them  about  with  him 
and  was  always  ready  to  administer  liberal  doses  of  them  to 
both  yoang  arid  old  on  the  slightest  provocation.  Her  belief 
in  his  sour  and  peppery  disposition  grew  mainly  from  the  fact 
that  he  had  once  reproved  her  for  doing  her  hair  up  in  curl 
papers. 

Peter  was  in  some  respects  the  victim  of  popular  injustice. 
Although  the  softer  soil  of  his  heart  had  been  covered  by  irrup- 
tions of  hard  experience,  it  was  not  destroyed,  and  one  had  but 
to  go  deep  enough  to  find  it.  At  that  very  moment  he  was 
thinking  of  the  native  cottage  and  land  from  which  he  had 
wandered  so  long  and  so  far;  and  like  many  another  of  us 
older  ones,  he  was  sighing  for  the  days  of  his  youth.  And 
knowing  that  they  could  never  return  in  this  life,  he  was  trying 
to  console  himself  with  the  thought  that  some  of  the  things 
that  he  learned  in  the  "auld  kirk  at  hame"  would  turn  out  to 
be  more  than  true  in  the  life  to  come.  In  his  own  way  he  was 
saying  to  himself: 


I  am  far  frae  my  hame,'  an'  I'm  weary  aften-whiles. 

For  the  langed  hamc-bringin',  an'  my  Father's  welcome 

smiles. 
An'  I'll  ne'er  be  fu'  content  till  mine  een  do  see 
The  gowden  gates  o'  Heaven  an'  my  ain  countree. 


m 


Shaking  his  tears  into  the  stream  to  dry  his  eyes,  he  com- 
pressed his  quivering  lips  and  resolutely  lifting  his  head  he 
thumped  his  gnarled  stick  vigorously  upon  the  planks  of  the 
bridge  in  protest  against  his  melting  mood.  Just  then  he 
caught  sight  of  Don  and  his  book,  and  the  sight  restored  to 
him  his  peck  of  pickled  peppers. 

When  Peter  saw  a  boy  reading  a  book  at  his  own  sweet 
will — free  from  all  compulsory  tutorings,  and  in  a  comer  by 


— ^"ilii|i|--'-TmiiiriiltiMiliiiiiii 


wmm^ 


mmm 


■p"«iw»w^^^rT 


■-^'^••»iT% 


wt  f"»^^^:'^n'yi^J>'  i»'^ 


14 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


himself,  he  at  once  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  read- 
ing something  that  ought  not  to  be  read.  He  doubtless 
remembered  ilie  escapades  of  his  own  young  days,  and  judged 
the  lad  by  his  own  misdoings,  as  is  apt  to  be  tne  case  wi^h  those 
who  have  indicting  memories. 

"Gin  I  were  the  daddy  o'  that  lad,"  he  wrathily  exclaimed, 
"I'd  take  all  his  haverings  an'  burn  them  afore  all  men,  an'  gie 
him  fu'  screeptural  authority  for  that  same:  See  Acts  o'  the 
Apostles,  nineteenth  chapter  an'  nineteenth  varse.  An'  gin 
thfit  wadna  cure  his  appetite  for  all  sich  cantankerosities,  I'd 
supplement  the  fire  wi'  a  gfude  birch  rod:  See  Proverbs 
twinty-third  an'  fourteenth:  'Thou  shalt  beat  him  with  the 
rod,  and  shalt  save  his  sou'  from  hell.'  " 

It  eased  Peter's  recollection  of  his  own  shortcomings  to 
think  that  here  was  a  chance  to  discover  and  comment  upon 
the  failings  of  others.  And  he  continued:  "See  what  comes 
o'  havin'  a'  meenister  for  a  daddy  wha  preaches  sae  much  at 
ither  people  there's  naethin'  left  for  his  ain  bairns.  'If  a  man 
know  not  how  to  rule  his  own  house,  how  shall  he  take  care  of 
the  house  of  God?'  See  fust  Timothy,  third  chapter  an'  fifth 
varse.  Charity  begins  at  home;  see — see — ^Aye,  Peter,  where 
did  ye  see  it?  Ye  ought  to  know  that  it's  no*  in  the  buik,  an' 
is  not  a  text  o'  the  elect."  ** 

And  having  tired  of  talking  to  himself,  and  to  make  amends 
for  having  quoted  unscriptural  authority,  Peter  determined  to 
interfare  with  Don's  reading,  and  to  find  out  for  himself  what 
he  was  reading.  Don  was  so  absorbed  in  his  book  that  he 
didn't  notice  Peter  till  he  was  close  upon  him. 

Without  ceremony  Peter  touched  the  book  with  his  stick 
and  said  with  his  whole  peck  of  pickled  peppers  in  his  mouth: 
"Ye'll  be  readin'  Fox's  Book  o'  Martyrs,  or  The  Lives  o'  The 
Saints,  the  noo?" 


:;  '±.^;  .*iL2i*>'***'*'i»  ^^■- 


m'm'.' 


ii«....i.iy  i.H«ll,l    IJ.  lii    ■I'.-JBrWl'U'WJ'.W!!'^'' 


"wsr 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


16 


Don  had  had  many  encounters  witH  the  Scotchman, 
encounters  which  he  rather  enjoyed  than  feared,  and  he  replied 
laughingly:  "No,  Mr.  Piper;  I  took  those  bitter  doses  when 
I  was  coniinu  up  from  the  scarlet  fever,  and  because  Betty 
Crowell  brought  them  in  and  said  they  were  good  for  sick 
boys.  But  that  was  a  bad  day  for  the  books,  for  the  Doctor 
ordered  them  into  the  stove  after  I  got  through  with  them  lest 
they  should  give  the  scarlet  fever  to  somebody  else.  Betty 
has  been  mourning  for  them  ever  since." 

"More's  the  peety!  Gin  ye  had  filled  yersel'  wi'  them  ye'd 
be  more  likely  to  make  a  mon  o'  yersel'."  And  seeing  that 
Don  was  not  disposed  to  volunteer  infortpation  about  the  book 
in  h^md,  Peter  added :  "Maybe  it's  the  Scotch  varsion  o'  the 
Psalms  ye' re  tunin'  yer  soul  wi." 

"I  didn't  know  that  the  Scotch  had  written  any  Psalms," 
said  Don,  half  innocently  and  half  mischievously. 

"Hoot,  laddie  1  I  said  'varsion.'  Dinna  ye  ken  the 
meanin'  o'  varsion,  an'  ye  a  meenister's  son?  Gin  ye'd  ben 
nursed  at  the  paps  o*  the  Old  School  Presbyterians,  like  mysel*, 
ye'd  no'  be  the  coof  ye  are\this  minute."  And  not  to  be 
diverted  from  his  purpose,  Peter  returned  to  the  charge.  "I 
make  free  to  say  that  the  buik  ye're  spierin'  into  belangs  to  the 
frogs  an'  the  lice  kind  which  hae  come  into  the  land  for  its 
wickedness.  That's  the  cause  o'  your  eegnorance  of  the  var- 
sion. 'Ephraim  is  joined  to  his  idols':  See  Hosea,  fourth 
chapter  an'  seventeenth  varse.  An'  may  the  Lord  hae  marcy 
on  your^oul  afore  ye're  given  up  to  a  reprobate  mind,  for  ye're 
bewitched  wi'  wickedness." 

"Yes,  I  am  bewitched;  and  if  Sir  Walter  Scott  is  wicked- 
ness I  am  beivitched  with  wickedness,  for  I  am  reading  Peveril 
of  the  Peak,  and  this  is  not  the  first  of  his  books  I  have  read." 

Don  spoke  proudly  when  he  should  have  spoken  with  some 


.MiidMiMiulMAWiaiUl^^ 


Biiiii 


16 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


twinges  of  conscience.  He  had  read  Scott  to  an  excess.  His 
head  was  full  of  castles  and  towers;  moats  and  drawbridges; 
shining  steel  and  brilliant  banners;  gallant  knights  and  beauti- 
ful ladies,  and  stirring  trumpets  and  thrilling  tournaments. 
Under  the  wand  of  The  Wizard  of  the  North  he  had  gone 
straight  up  to  the  clouds,  where  he  lived  more  than  was  good 
for  his  mind. 

The  moment  he  mentioned  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Peter 
changed;  his  gray  eyes  became  luminous,  and  his  world- 
seamed  face  shared  in  the  glow  of  his  eyes.  For  the  time 
being  he  forgot  the  Book  of  Martyrs,  The  Lives  of  The  Saints 
and  The  Scotch  Version  of  The  Psalms. 

"Sir  Walter  Scott!"  he  exclaimed  with  g^rowing  excitment. 
"He  was  the  canniest  Scot  that  ever  climbed  a  hill  or  drew  in 
the  breath  of  the  heather!  I  was  born  in  sight  o'  bonny 
Abbotsford.  When  I  was  but  a  lad  aft  hae  I  seen  him  roamin' 
the  gray  hills  wi'  his  high  bred  dogs.  His  face  was  like  the 
sun  shinin'  aboon  the  mountains.  These  lugs  o'  mine  hae 
heard  his  voice  soundin',  sometimes  like  the  waters  amang  the 
rushes,  an'  sometimes  likr  the  flood  comir'  down  the  brae. 
Mony's  the  time  I  hae  got  him  a  flower  frae  the  cliff  or  fetched 
him  a  pebble  frae  the  bottom  o'  the  brook.  He  wasna  a  snob 
always  a  fearin'  his  respectability  might  dissolve  in  a  shower, 
but  he  took  my  gifts  an'  thankt  me  for  them,  an'  talked  about 
them  like  a  gentleman.  An'  when  I  carried  him  a  pair  o'  sal- 
mon ye  wadhaethocht  I  were  a  givin'  him  a  crown.  He  didna 
forget  that  he  was  a  lad  ance,  an'  though  he  became  a  lord  he 
was  not  ashamed  to  own  the  bairns  wi'  whom  he  played.  Ye 
mind  his  words  in  Marmion: 

And  much  I  miss  those  sportive  boys. 
Companions  of  my  mountain  joys. 
Just  at  the  age  'twixt  boy  and  youth. 
When  thought  is  speech,  and  speech  is  truth." 


gpii    • 


excess.  His 
drawbridges; 
ts  and  beauti- 
tournaments. 
he  had  gone 
lan  was  good 

Scott,  Peter 
d  his  world- 
For  the  time 
of  The  Saints 

ng  excitment. 
lill  or  drew  in 
ght  o'  bonny 
n  him  roamin' 
B  was  like  the 
;  o'  mine  hae 
ers  amang  the 
Dwn  the  brae, 
cliflf  or  fetched 
wasna  a  snob 
e  in  a  shower, 
t'  talked  about 
n  a  pair  o'  sal- 
vn.  He  didna 
:ame  a  lord  he 
le  played.    Ye 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


It  y/w<i  Don's  turn  to  be  astonished,  and  he  said:  "Why,  Mr. 
Piper  i  never  knew  that  you  had  seen — actually  seen  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott!" 

"That's  not  to  be  wonnered  at.  'What  man  knoweth  the 
things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of  a  man  which  is  in  him?'  See 
fust  Corinthians,  chapter  two,  varse  eleven.  We  dinna  so 
much  as  know  the  people  on  whose  toes  we  tread  ivery  day; 
we  are  a'  mecsteries  to  ane  anither." 

"Please  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  you  kno"  about  Sir  Wal- 
ter," pleaded  Don  earnestly,  and  with  a  respect  that  he  had 
never  before  felt  for  the  old  fisherman.  And  thus  it  happened 
that  the  two  who  seemed  to  be  at  the  opposite  poles  of  life 
found  themselves  on  the  equator  together.  As  the  man  went 
on  with  his  recital  of  what  he  had  seen  of  the  great  romancipt 
an3  poet,  Don  saw  that  he  was  possessed  of  reminiscences 
that  were  far  more  interesting  than  some  things  he  had  read  in 
the  books  about  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

"Aa'  noo,"  said  Peter  at  the  end  of  his  narrative,  "I  hae 
said  ower  much  to  the  praise  o'  Sir  Walter,  an'  maybe  yell  be 
readin'  him  mair  than  ever,  ah'  that  too,  without  asavin'  mix- 
ture o'  other  things.  The  emagination,  ye  ken,  is  a  gude 
friend,  but  an  unco  bad  guide.  Gin  ye  live  on  stories  an'  tales 
a'  the  time,  ye'll  be  like  the  stork  which  is  a'  legs,  wings  an' 
neck,  an'-  which  has  an  uncanny  way  o'  spendin'  the  maist  o' 
its  time  in  the  marshes  cockit  up  on  one  leg  by  itself.  Or  ye'll 
be  like  Jacob  dreamin'  aboot  angels  an'  angels'  ladders  ower- 
much ;  see  Genesis  twenty-eight  and  twelve.  Angels'  ladders, 
ye  ken,  were  not  made  for  tho  likes  o'  Jacob  to  climb.  Whin 
ye  get  to  be  an  angel  itil  be  time  enough  to  try  that  way  of 
rising;  but  while  ye  are  a  mortal  bein',  ye  matm  do  your  wrast- 
tin'  an'  fight  your  battles  on  solid  ground,  e'en  though  ye  hae 
Xq  do  it  in  the  dark,  an'  get  your  hip  crackit  in  the  doin'  o'  it*** 


.'Hi 


> >»'A2., .^ ..  .     ..  -■-'.;— J --^isi^i.......  ..■.,...:l»,....  ,>„jf.i-:--,.-  -•  •-'  ii^|;jg|^([if^|•'^1^^^fil■rl|ll|r)|lil^rflt^r'■~ff^^f^ 


^■^ 


mmm 


CHAPTER   II. 


THB  LADY  OP  TH8  LAKB  CLUB. 


-' 


Barrington  Head  was  so  far  removed  from  the  bustle  of 
the  outside  world  that  not  even  a  telegraph  instrument  clicked 
to  disturb  its  quiet.  The  weekly  stage  arrivals,  and  the  Sun- 
day gatherings  at  the  two  'meeting  houses'  v/erc  the  most 
exciting  events  of  .  "rent  history.  An  occasional  gale  of 
wind  with  a  seasoning  jf  thunder  in  it  was  welcomed  for  var- 
iety's sake.  The  people  went  to  bed  betimes  and  rose  up  early 
to  greet  the  first  rays  of  the  sun. 

When  the  village  school  was  in  session  there  was  a  pleasant 
hum  of  life  in  its  vicinity,  for  the  youth  of  both  sexes  were  no 
exception  to  the'r  kind  when  they  gathered  on  the  green 
before  the  bell  rang,  or  poured  out  in  noisy  tumult  when  the 
welcome  times  of  recess  released  them   from  their  books. 

The  court  house  by  the  school  seldom  or  never 
had  a  trial  to  disturb  its  vacancy  and  stillness.  When 
the  circuit  judge  made  his  annual  visitation,  the  most 
he  ever  did  was  to  put  on  his  robe  and  wig,  and 
then  in  addition  draw  on  his  white  gloves  in  com- 
pliance with  the  customs  of  the  time  as  a  sign  that  his  docket 
was  white  or  empty  of  cases.  With  this  formality  the  court 
was  adjourned  and  His  Honor  hied  to  the  stream  to  angle  for 
trout  till  it  was  time  for  him  to  f;o  to  some  other  place  to  go 
through  with  the  same  arduoiis  ceremonies.  There  was  so 
little  litigation  in  the  h^mlel;  ihat  no  lawyer  deemed  it  worth 
his  while  to  become  a  rccident  of  it.  The  people  knew  their 
own  business  and  attended  to  it  without  any  legal  aid. 

(i8) 


MNHHMI 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON. 


19 


ic  bustle  of 
lent  clicked 
\d  the  Sun- 
c  the  most 
nal  gale  of 
ned  for  var- 
3se  up  early 

IS  a  pleasant 
xes  were  no 
1  the  green 
lit  when  the 
books. 

or  never 
less.  When 
,  the  most 
I  wig,  and 
;s  in  com- 
U  his  docket 
ity  the  court 

to  angle  for 
r  place  to  go 
'here  was  so 
ned  it  worth 
e  knew  their 

aid. 


It  would  have  taken  a  day's  travel  to  discover  a  liquor 
saloon.  Any  attempt  to  fix  such  a  curse  upon  the  community 
would  have  resulted  In  the  tipping  of  the  building  into  the  river 
without  the  benefit  of  either  judge  or  jury.  Drunkards  were 
as  scarce  as  white  elephants. 

Nevertheless,  quiet  as  was  the  hamlet  it  was  the  home  of 
mariners  who  did  business  upon  the  great  waters,  and  who 
went  down  tothe  sea  in  ships  and  sailed  with  them  unto  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  earth.  And  not  a  few  born  in  these  scenes  of 
silence  became  the  occupants  of  exalted  stations  in  centers  of 
both  commercial  and  political  activity. 

Don  lived  in  an  old  colonial  house  near  the  bluflF  on  which 
we  found  him  sitting  Arjth  his  book.  The  gabled  residence 
was  a  house  of  many  rooms  each  one  of  which  was  finished  in 
a  style  suggestive  of  a  wealth  of  wood  and  no  end  of  time. 

By  the  irony  of  Fate  or  the  miscalculations  of  the  builder, 
the  two  porches  of  the  rear  of  the  house  fronted  upon  the  pub- 
lic highway,  while,  by  way  of  contradiction,  the  quite  elaborate 
front  backed  upon  the  orchard  through  which  no  visitor  ever 
thought  of  making  an  approach  to  the  premises.  Not  so 
much  as  a  footpath  invited  from  that  direction,  for  the  orchard 
was  bounded  by  a  thornhedge,  and  the  thornhedge  by  a  salt 
meadow  that  ended  in  the  waters  of  the  harbor — a  deep  dented 
bay  scooped  out  by  the  Atlantic  during  the  innumerable  years 
of  unrecorded  time. 

One  gable  of  the  paint-despising  building  faced  a  turn  in 
the  road,  and  the  old  sawmill;  and  the  other  commanded  an 
extended  view  of  the  winding  highway  along  which  were 
scattered  the  few  houses  of  the  hamlet  that  seemed  in  danger 
of  tumbling  into  the  boundless  contiguity  of  space  or  into  the 
dark  evergreen  forest  that  belted  the  sea-jagged  ^oast. 

One  of  the  porches — the  one  that  served  as  the  main 


inliiMrim 


■iMMliita 


f^mm 


90 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


■'• 


entrance  to  this  woodon  cave — opened  into  a  large  room  or 
kitchen  whostc*  most  noticeable  object  was  the  great  fireplace 
flanked  on  either  side  with  v  iwning  ovens  deeply  set  in  the 
enormous  chimney.  The  crane  and  andirons,  and  great  bul- 
ging pots  and  kettles  might  have  served  for  the  kitchen  uten- 
sils of  the  Cyclopean  monster  whose  single  eye  Homer's  hero 
punched  out  with  the  burning  stake.  The  fuel  for  this  omniv- 
orous fire-cave  was  am|>ly  furnished  by  the  waste  slabs  and 
logs  from  the  convenient  sawmill.  The  narrow  window  open- 
ing between  the  two  porches  afforded  a  dim  light  to  the  odd 
reception  room  into  which  no  visitor  entered  for  the  first  time 
without  experiencing  both  surprise  and  curiosity.  The  gen- 
eral furniture  of  the  room  was  largely  extemporized  by  family 
skill  from  the  scantlings  of  the  mill-yard. 

The  ample  cooking  facilities  were  exceptionally  convenient 
for  the  Donalds  family,  the  offspring  being  both  numerous  and 
healthy.  And  visitors  were  so  frequent  that  it  was  seldom  the 
house  was  without  one  or  more  guests.  Now  it  was  the  lord 
bishop  or  the  chief  justice  of  the  province,  and  then  a  patent 
medicine  vender,  or  a  lecturer  who  carried  an  accordeon  with 
which  to  increase  his  chance  of  a  hearing.  The  house,  how- 
ever, was  not  a  hostelry;  that  dignity  was  reserved  to  the 
Homer  Hotel,  situated  on  the  green  opposite,  whose  keep-ir 
was  a  county  celebrity,  a  member  of  the  provincial  parliament, 
and  a  man  of  such  knowledge  and  oratorical  ability  that  when  he 
mounted  the  hustings  the  people  bowed  before  his  eloquence 
as  the  tree -tops  bow  before  the  wind.  His  guests  seldom  left 
his  hotel  without  first  paying  their  respects  to  the  old  house 
and  its  occupants,  and  it  thus  happened  that  the  Donalds,  both 
small  and  great,  were  kept  well  apprised  of  the  current  gossip 
of  the  world  without. 


room  or 

fireplace 

let  in  the 

rreat  bul- 

hcn  uten- 

ler's  hero 

lis  omniv- 

slabs  and 

low  opcn- 

o  the  odd 

;  first  time 

The  gcn- 

by  family 

convenient 
nerous  and 
seldom  the 
as  the  lord 
en  a  patent 
trdeon  with 
lousc,  how- 
•ved  to  the 
lose  keep-r 
parliament, 
lat  when  he 
s  eloquence 
seldom  left 
e  old  house 
onalds,  both 
rrent  gossip 


As  Don  knew  the  haunts  of  the  trout,  and  was  skilled  in  the 
lures  best  adapted  to  them,  he  was  in  fre(|ui*nt  dcman<l  as  a 
guide  to  the  fishing  pools.  But  boing  jealous  of  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  companion  he  always  refused  compensation  as  an 
attendant.  Although  the  visitors  often  smiled  at  his  airs,  he 
suffered  no  inconvenience  from  their  private  opinions,  for 
where  ignorance  is  bliss  'tis  folly  to  be  wise. 

One  day  a  man  of  middle  age,  all  the  way  from  London 
made  his  appearance  in  the  place  and  s'^nified  his  intention  to 
remain  for  several  weeks.  Little  by  little  it  came  out  that  he 
was  an  artist  of  great  distinction ;  one  who  had  made  sketches 
in  Africa,  India,  South  America  and  in  the  United  States;  and 
one  whose  domestic  infelicities  had  been  paraded  wherever  the 
English  language  was  printed.  Mr.  Barry,  for  thrt  was  hi» 
name,  sought  the  province  thinking  that  he  could  here  effectu- 
ally seclude  himself,  but  only  to  find  that  his  fame  had  pre- 
ceded him.  Although  connected  with  a  titled  family ,  his  manners 
were  simple  and  hearty,  and  he  was  as  much  devoid  of  all  pre- 
tence as  though  he  were  tlie  descendent  of  a  log  cabin  family. 
Being  a  passionate  angler  and  hunter,  as  well  as  an  ardent 
artist,  he  at  once  secured  Don  for  his  attendant. 

When  Peter  Piper  saw  them  together  for  the  first  time, 
he  said  in  his  most  peppery  manner:  "It's  unco  bad  for  a 
nobody  to  be  cheek-by-jowl  wi'  a  somebody  unless,  like  Elisha 
he  grows  beeg  enough  to  wear  his  mantle;  see  fust  Kings, 
nineteenth  an'  nineteenth.  The  lad'll  be  going  straight  to  the 
clouds,  an'  when  his  ludship's  gone  it'll  be  a  twel'  mo  before 
he  sees  ground  agen." 

At  the  same  moment  Barry  was  saying  to  Don:  "That's 
a  saucy  looking  little  craft  lying  out  there  in  the  bay.  I'd  like 
to  charter  her  while  I'm  here.  She's  just  the  size  for  nosing 
in  and  out  among  the  harbors  of  this  coast."    If  he  had  looked 


■j'^^il^Cit.iJ^ 


IT"" 


tlikf^  iin.:  jut, 


22 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


more  closely  he  would  have  seen  that  her  sails  were  not  bent, 
and  that  she  was  far  from  being  in  trim  for  sea-work. 

"That's  The  Lady  of  The  Lake,"  Don  replied. 

"Lady  of  The  Lake?"  exclaimed  the  artist.  "How  did  she 
get  such  a  name  as  that  in  such  an  out  of  the  wa>  place  as 
this?" 

"She  was  built  in  the  woods  by  Jacob  Kendrick,  a  man  who 
knew  as  much,  about  Sir  Walter  Scott's  poems  as  he  did  about 
his  Bible,  and  what  he  didn't  know  about  the  Bible  was 
sc.ircely  worth  knowing;"  and  Don  answered  with  spirit. 

"Built  in  the  woods?"  Barry  exclaimed,  with  increasing 
surprise. 

"Yes;  three  miles  above  this;  back  of  Oak  Park;  two  of 
them.  The  other  one  was  called  The  Youth.  The  Lady  is 
about  twenty-five  tons  burthen,  and  the  other  was  about  nine- 
teen tons." 

"How  did  they  get  them  down  to  the  sea?"  Barry  inter- 
rupted, believing  that  he  had  stumbled  upon  a  new  thing  under 
the  sun. 

"They  put  them  in  cradles,  and  the  cradles  on  rollers  and 
hauled  them  down  with  a  long  row  of  oxen  to  low  water  mark ; 
and  when  the  tide  came  in,  they  floated  as  trimly  as  though 
they  had  been  built  in  a  regular  shipyard  and  had  gone  into 
the  sea  on  tallowed  skids." 

"And  you  saw  all  this  with  your  own  eyes?"  and  Barry 
looked  into  Don's  eyes  as  if  searching  the  retina  for  some  pho- 
tograpii  of  the  scene. 

"Oh,  no,  but  it's  just  as  true  as  if  I  did.  That  was  more 
than  thirty  years  ago;  and  the  little  craft  out  there  having 
served  her  day,  is  no  longer  fit  for  sea.  She  is  now  head- 
quarters for  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  Club,  and  but  for  the  club 
she  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  long  before  this." 


i;Vi*  ■■  '•fSh'-ti. 


>l<y<MhiJ»ff.».  i».i  J.  %jMvi  [|  [  !■  nmriipi'.*  I  ■  "mm 


w  did  she 
place  as 

man  who 
did  about 
3ible  was 
lirit. 
ncreasing 

k;  two  of 
e  Lady  is 
bout  nine- 

irry  inter- 
ling  under 

-oilers  and 

ater  mark ; 

as  though 

gone  into 

and  Barry 
some  pho- 

was  more 
ere  having 
now  head- 
or  the  club 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


28 


"Well,  I  have  stumbled  upon  some  oddities  in  my  time, 
but,  judging  from  what  I  am  learning  in  this  place,  I  have  not 
yet  exhausted  them  all.  Pray,  what  is  this  club  of  which  you 
speak?" 

"It  is  a  club  of  ten  boys — the  upper  ten  of  Barrington — 
ranging  from  twelve  to  sixteen.  I'm  the  Grand  Keyman  of 
the  club,  and  if  you  would  like  to  go  aboard  and  take  a  closer 
look  at  The  Lady  of  The  Lake,  I'll  row  you  off  at  your 
convenience." 

"I'll  accept  your  invitation  on  the  spot;  we  can  afltord  to  let 
the  trout  keep  themselves  in  the  water  till  we  get  back." 

Don  led  the  artist  down  to  Sargent's  wharf  without  delay. 
Here  they  stepped  into  a  gaily  painted  yawl,  of  which  Barry 
said  with  a  merry  twinkle:  "Somebody  believes  in  paint  as 
much  as  I  do." 

"Yes,"  Don  replied,  with  some  hesitation;  "we  painted  her 
ourselves  and  with  the  odds  and  ends  of  all  the  forsaken 
paint-pots  of  the  village." 

"Here,  I'll  take  one  of  those  oars,"  said  Barry,  as  he  saw 
Don  seat  himself  with  both  oars  in  hand. 

"Then  you  can  row?"  Don  answered,  looking  rather  sus- 
piciously at  the  artist's  delicate  hands. 

"I  was  born  on  the  Thames,  and  have  wet  several  pieces  of 
wood  first  and  last;  but  you  may  play  stroke-oar  if  you  wish." 

"Well,  here  we  go,"  and  Don  fetched  a  stroke  which  was 
intended  to  swing  the  boat  strongly  against  the  artist's  side. 

But  Barry  countered  the  stroke  so  quickly  the  yawl  instead 
of  looking  around  to  watch  her  wake  shot  ahead  as  straight  as 
an  arrow,  and  Don  instead  of  giving  a  lesson  to  Barry  took 
several  for  himself.  When  they  reached  the  vessel  the  artist 
was  breathing  as  easily  as  an  infant,  while  Don  was  puffing  like 
a  porpoise. 


.!-^^UU.& .J^.f*i 


.i^iU.«''»»tr«w;8i.f'i«,, 


■itemt'-' 


iPHM 


*PpN 


•IIHIMPI 


"St"" 


24 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"She  is  rather  past  the  prime  of  life,"  said  Barry  compre- 
hensively, running  his  eyes  over  the  craft  swiftly  and  discov- 
ering that  although  she  sat  the  water  like  a  duck,  all  her  run- 
ning rigging  had  been  removed,  save  the  color-halliards 
which  ntill  clung  to  the  maintopmast  as  if  for  use.  The  railing 
was  much  dented  and  weatherworn,  and  the  decking  showed 
many  signs  of  amateur  calking  and  tarring  where  the  club  had 
worked  to  prevent  the  seams  from  gaping  too  widely  to  the 
weather. 

Taking  a  formidable  key  from  his  pocket,  Don  turned  the 
great  padlock  from  the  companionway-staple  and  pushing 
back  the  slide,  and  shoving  open  the  two  parts  of  the  little 
door,  stood  aside  for  Barry  to  descend  the  steps  to  the  cabin. 
The  bulkhead,  which  originally  divided  the  cabin  from  the 
hold,  had  been  removed  and  a  new  partition  made,  which 
increased  the  length  of  the  room  to  half  the  length  of  the 
vessel. 

"Wait  till  I  light  the  chandelier  so  that  you  can  see  better," 
said  Don,  as  the  artist  stumbled  against  the  near  end  of  a 
long  table  wb''Mi  ran  lengthwise  the  narrow  cabin. 

"That  is  a  chandelier  worth  having,"  remarked  the  artist 
when  the  suspended  moose-antlers  illuminated  by  ten  candles, 
one  for  each  member  of  the  club,  lighted  up  the  cabin. 
Taking  one  of  the  plain  wooden  chairs  placed  neatly  by  the 
table,  which  he  noticed  was  covered  with  clean  napery  and  a 
fair  supply  of  dishes  ready  for  use,  the  artist  sat  down  and 
began  to  look  around.  One  end  of  the  table  that  was  not 
occupied  by  dishes  was  covered  with  books.  The  plain  spaces 
of  the  cabin  were  pasted  over  with  pictures,  and  little  shelves 
here  and  there  contained  curiosities  gathered  from  forest, 
stream  and  sea  shore.  But  what  most  attracted  him  was  a 
motley  array  of  many-hued  and  many-shaped  robes  that  hung 
upon  the  rear  wall  of  the  cabin. 


>mu^. 


f^^^ 


-SW^Sr- 


-ffwJT'WTWf 


Ifr*"^ 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


y  compre- 
nd  discov- 
II  her  run- 
ir-halliards 
rhe  railing 
^g  showed 
e  club  had 
iely  to  the 

turned  the 
d  pushing 
)f  the  little 
I  the  cabin. 
1  Krom  the 
ade,  which 
igth  of  the 

see  better," 
ir  end  of  a 

d  the  artist 
ten  candles, 

the  cabin, 
latly  by  the 
ipery  and  a 
t  down  and 
lat  was  not 
plain  spaces 
ittle  shelves 
Tom  forest, 

him  was  a 
:s  that  hung 


"What's  all  this?"  Barry  asked,  going  up  to  the  garments 
£nd  fingering  them  over. 

Don  almost  giggled  at  the  artist's  eager  curiosity,  and  said: 
"When  the  ship  Anglo-Saxon  was  cast  away  on  Cape  Island 
several  years  ago  she  had  on  board  a  whole  company  of  actors 
and  actresses  who  were  bound  for  England.  All  were  safely 
rescued  and  sent  to  Halifax.  Among  the  few  things  saved 
was  the  theatrical  outfit  of  the  company.  At  the  auction  of 
the  wreckage  no  one  wished  to  buy  the  'unholy  stuff',  and  it 
was  stowed  away  in  an  old  shed.  To  prevent  it  from  rotting 
uselessly  v/e  took  possesion  of  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  club. 
It's  all  there  from  the  royal  garments  of  the  king  and  queen 
down  to  the  cap  and  bells  of  the  king's  fool.  The  robes  are 
rather  the  worse  for  the  wear,  but  I  guess  they  will  hang 
together  as  long  as  the  club  does." 

"This  is  a  brand  new  freak  of  rustic  juvenility,"  said  Barry 
scratching  his  eyebrows  vigorously.  "Tell  me  more  about 
your  club." 

"We  have  heard  that  secret  societies  call  their  officers  by 
the  biggest  names  they  can  get,  and  then  buy  robes  to  fit  the 
names.    Examples  are  catching,  you  know." 

"Who  are  your  officers,  and  what  do  you  call  them?" 

"Arnold  Doane,  Most  Sovereign  Potentate ;  James  Doane, 
Grand  Viceroy;  Joshua  Smith,  Sublime  Scribe;  John  Perry, 
Sublime  Warden  of  Pounds  Shillings  and  Pence ;  James  Cox, 
Sublime  Door  Defender;  Joshua  Harding  and  John  Homer, 
Jr.,  Sublime  Marshals  of  Pots  and  Kettles;  George  Crowell 
and  Winthrop  Sargent,  Jr.,  Most  Puissant  Dishwashers  and 
Keepers  of  the  Pantry.  Besides  being  Grand  Keyman,  I  am 
Knight  of  the  Cap  and  Bells.  We  change  officers  every  three 
months.  The  Fool's  Cap  is  the  badge  which  is  the  most 
eagerly  sought.    Every  one  is  obliged  to  fit  his  language  to 


•Aim 


■iii 


26 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


I 


his  clothes.  We  meet  once  a  week,  and  each  one  brings  some- 
thing for  the  supper.  No  monkeying  is  allowed  except  by  the 
Regular  Fool.  Part  of  the  time  is  spent  in  reading.  If  you'll 
come  to  the  next  meeting  and  tell  us  something  about  hunting 
the  tiger  in  Africa  and  the  elephant  in  India,  where  you  have 
been  so  much,  we'll  make  you  an  honorary  member  and  put 
the  king's  robes  upon  you  at  youi  visit.  I  am  Grand  Sover- 
eign Committee  on  Guests  and  will  see  that  the  invitation  is 
written  out  and  sent  to  you  in  form." 

"I'll  come,  sure,"  said  Barry,  and  his  ready  acceptance  so 
pleased  Don  that  he  determined  to  do  all  he  could  to  make  the 
visitation  the  event  of  the  club's  history. 

"But  what  use  do  you  make  of  these  female  robes — ^worship 
them?"  asked  Barry. 

"At  the  installation  of  officers  each  member  of  the  club  is 
privileged  to  bring  one  girl  friend  with  him,  and  to  offer  to  her 
for  her  use  during  the  evening  the  robe  which  is  the  nearest 
match  to  his  own  rank  in  the  society." 

Barry  went  to  the  club  according  to  promise,  and  after  he 
had  entertained  them  for  an  hour  with  an  account  of  his  travels 
and  some  of  his  adventures  in  Africa  and  India  he  compliantly 
allowed  them  to  put  upon  him  the  king's  robe  and  tinsel  crown 
and,  notwithstanding  the  grotesqueries  of  the  ..meeting  and  the 
banquet,  he  enjoyed  himself  to  the  fullest  bent  of  his  humor. 
He  had  insisted  as  one  condition  of  his  visit,  that  nothing  of 
their  usual  form  should  be  omitted. 

Thereafter  the  boys  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  artist  for 
anything  that  could  administer  to  his  pleasure  or  to  the  main 
object  of  his  stay  in  the  vicinity.  He  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  stirring  history  of  the  ancient  times  of  this  part  of  Acadia, 
and  told  them  more  about  the  vicinity  than  any  of  them  had 
ever  heard  before.    They  took  him  in  their  yawl  and  under 


■A-if. 


igs  some- 
ept  by  the 
If  you'll 
It  hunting 
you  have 
:r  and  put 
rd  Sover- 
vitation  is 

eptance  so 
)  make  the 

i — ^worship 

the  club  is 
affer  to  her 
the  nearest 

nd  after  he 
[  his  travels 
:ompliantly 
insel  crown 
ing  and  the 

lis  humor. 

nothing  of 

le  artist  for 
:o  the  main 
lainted  with 

of  Acadia, 
f  them  had 

and  under 


AIB    GASTLB    DON 


27 


sail  carried  him  to  Cape  Sable  because  he  wanted  to  see  the 
famous  island  upon  which  the  Norseman,  Leif,  the  son  of  Eric 
the  Red,  of  Brattahlid,  in  Greenland,  landed  before  he  went 
on  to  discover  the  shores  of  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island. 
He  was  acquainted  also  with  the  fact  that  the  Cape  was  the 
scene  of  the  exciting  adventures  of  the  French  Latour  and  his 
beautiful  and  heroic  wife,  and  that  Port  Latour,  just  below 
Barrington,  was  named  after  the  Frenchman,  he  having  built 
a  fort  and  made  his  home  there  many  years,  growing  rich 
on  the  furs  bought  from  the  Indians,  who  at  that  time  were 
thick  in  the  land.  It  wac  here  that  his  wife — 'Constance  of 
Acadia' — ^acquired  unlimited  power  over  the  savages  by  living 
among  them  as  one  of  them  and  teaching  them  the  simpler  and 
gentler  arts  of  civilization.  It  was  here,  during  the  absence  of 
her  husband,  that  she  successfully  defended  the  fort  against 
their  white  enemies  and  put  them  to  flight.  The  boys  of  the 
club  ro'.  ed  the  artist  down  to  Coffintown  and  walked  with  him 
over  to  Port  Latour  in  search  of  the  remains  of  the  old 
fortification. 

On  their  return,  while  passing  through  a  clump  of  pines  not 
far  from  Coffintown,  Don  said  to  Barry:  "Here  is  the  place 
where  the  club  played  ghosts  and  captured  a  cap  and  sword 
from  an  officer  of  a  war  ship." 

"How  was  that?"  asked  the  artist. 

"A  man-of-war  came  into  the  mouth  of  the  channel  and 
spent  several  weeks  surveying  the  harbor  for  chart  purposes. 
The  purser  got  acquainted  with  a  pretty  g^rl  living  not  far  from 
this,  and  pretended  to  make  love  to  her.  He  visited  her  in  full 
uniform  with  side  arms,  and  cap  with  the  newest  gilt  band 
more  than  two  inches  wide.  We  got  wind  of  the  time  of  one 
of  his  visits  and  came  down,  each  one  dressed  in  the  longest 
robe  available  from  our  supply,  and  hid  ourselves  in  this  clump 


'41 


■lyiyl 


28  AIR    GASTLB    DON 

of  trees.  At  midnight  we  heard  him  clamping  along  in  the 
darkness  on  his  way  back  to  his  boat,  and  when  he  got  oppo- 
site the  place  where  we  were  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  we  rose 
up  with  a  yell  and  with  our  robes  flaunting  about  us,  gave 
chase  to  him.  He  fled  like  a  calf,  dropping  his  cap,  and  finally 
losing  his  sword  out  of  its  scabbard.  These  we  picked  up  and 
carried  with  us  back  to  The  Lady  of  the  Lake." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  from  him  after  that?"  asked  Barry, 
when  he  recovered  from  his  merriment. 

"Not  a  word,"  Don  replied.  "What  account  he  gave  of 
himself  when  he  reached  the  ship,  never  reached  the  shore;  nor 
did  he  ever  come  on  shore  again  while  the  ship  was  here." 

"Evidently  Acadian  ghosts  were  not  to  his  liking.  But 
does  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  Club  do  much  of  that  sort  of  work 
among  the  sinners  who  happen  here  occasionally?" 

"Oh,  no!"  responded  the  mild-mannered  Most  Sovereign 
Potentate  of  the  club;  "there  is  no  need  of  a  vigilance  com- 
mittee in  such  a  place  as  this.  We'll  confess,  however,  that  we 
once  tried  to  cure  a  very  bad  case  of  foul-mouth  by  taking  a 
boy  who  was  affected  with  it  down  to  the  river,  and  scouring 
his  mouth  with  soft  soap,  sand  and  water.  The  remedy 
appeared  to  be  effective  for  awhile,  but  when  he  removed  to 
another  place  it  is  said  that  the  disease  broke  out  worse  than 
ever.    Our  outside  work  is  mostly  confined  to  widow  work." 

"Please  enlighten  me — what  kind  of  work  is  that?" 

"There  are  several  women  in  the  neighborhood  whose 
husbands  were  lost  at  sea.  Some  of  them  are  in  poor  circum- 
stances, and  we  do  what  we  can  to  keep  their  wood-piles  from 
getting  low,  and  if  their  garden  or  potato-patch  needs  looking 
after  we  offer  our  services,  for  all  of  us  know  how  to  work." 

"Young  gentlemen,"  and  the  artist  spoke  with  deliberation 
and  emphasis,  "your  titles  are  rather  top-heavy,  and  yoUr  club 


''■i|Pp|.|^P||i^Wpm^/Mf!W  '*:"-'  ^J  ..gji|.y.i,iBii»,iii.i.yw,^, 


AIU    CASTLE    DON 


29 


ilong  in  the 
le  got  oppo- 
und,  we  rose 
3Ut  us,  gave 
p,  and  finally 
icked  up  and 

isked  Barry, 

t  he  gave  of 
he  shore ;  nor 
IS  here." 

liking.  But 
t  sort  of  work 
•?" 

3st  Sovereign 
igilance  com- 
vever,  that  we 
h  by  taking  a 

and  scouring 

The  remedy 
le  removed  to 
ut  worse  than 
widow  work." 
that?" 

arhood  whose 
1  poor  circum- 
ood-piles  from 

needs  looking 
how  to  work." 
,th  deliberation 

and  yoUr  club 


clothes  £.re  a  bit  gaudy  and  flimsy,  but  there  is  no  discount  on 
your  deeds.  By  way  of  expressing  my  approbation  of  your 
aims  I  shall,  while  I  am  here,  paint  a  panel  for  your  club 
quarters;  and  I  hope  that  it  will  give  you  as  much  pleasure  as 
you  have  given  me." 

This  was  such  an  unexpected  honor  that  the  club  greeted 
the  announcement  with  a  three  times  three,  and  the  ghost  yell 
with  which  they  vanquished  the  purser  of  the  man-of-war  ship. 


I 
f<5 


w 


CHAPTER   III. 


'     ;  DON  MAKES  TWO  MOVBS. 

Don's  days  were  not  all  spent  in  reading  and  dreaming  and 
leading  gentlemanly  excursionists  around  the  region.  Family 
needs  required  that  he  should  pick  up  pennies  wherever  they 
could  be  had  for  the  equivalent  of  work.  When  in  the  spring 
the  herring  were  going  up-stream  he  stood  all  day  long  upon 
the  rocks  and  dipped  them  into  his  herring  barrel,  and  when  in 
the  fall  the  eels  were  going  down-stream,  he  stood  on  the 
bridge  till  twelve  of  night  ensnaring  them  with  his  net,  for  both 
herring  and  eels  were  easily  turned  into  cash.  He  mended 
holes  in  the  highway,  picked  rock-weed  when  the  tide  was  out, 
shingled  shanties,  cleared  the  slabs  from  the  gangway  of  the 
little  saw-mill,  turned  oats  in  the  kiln  of  the  grist-mill,  and 
planted  potatoes  or  dug  them.  When  the  wild  berry  season 
was  on,  he  made  them  pay  tribute;  and  when  the  rabbits  were 
on  the  run  in  winter,  he  turned  many  of  them  into  the  family 
larder.  He  hated  a  gun,  but  was  never  averse  to  fishing 
tackle,  and  so  first  and  last  he  was  worth  at  least  as  much  as 
his  salt  came  to. 

One  day  he  was  ten  feet  underground  scooping  earth  into 
a  bucket  as  a  well  digger,  when  Feter  Piper,  who  was  at  the 
windlass  over  his  head  shouted  down  the  opening:  "Come 
up,  lad;  here's  a  mon  a'  the  way  frae  Argyle  that  wants  to  see 
Don  Donalds." 

Argyle  was  thirty  miles  away.  He  knew  no  man  there, 
and  wondering  what  his  errand  could  be,  Don  climbed  the 

r.v)) 


reaming  and 
ion.  Family 
herever  they 
in  the  spring 
ly  long  upon 

and  when  in 
Uood  on  the 
\  net,  for  both 

He  mended 

tide  was  out, 

ngway  of  the 

rist-mill,  and 

berry  season 

rabbits  were 
ito  the  family 
se  to  fishing 
X  as  much  as 

ng  earth  into 

lo  was  at  the 

ing:    "Come 

wants  to  see 

o  man  there, 
climbed  the 


:» 

*%*- 


.^^v-■v^  ;"■..; 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


81 


bucket  rope,  hand  over  hand,  begrimed  with  mud,  presented 
himself  to  the  dapper  little  gray  haired  man  who  awaited  his 
appearance. 

"You  have  been  recommended  to  us  for  a  teacher,"  said 
the  man  without  ceremony.  "My  name  is  Thomas  Tubbins, 
and  I  have  come  down  to  engage  you  for  the  fall  and  winter 
terms.     Will  you  come?" 

"But  I  have  never  taught,  and  I'm  only  fourteen  years  of 
age,"  Don  replied,  in  astonishment. 

"You  are  well  enough  qualified,  that  I  have  found  out 
already,"  said  Tubbins,  "and  that  you  are  big  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  handle  anybody  we've  got  in  our  school  I  can  see 
with  my  own  eyes.  Say  yes,  and  we'll  settle  the  rest  in  no 
time.    School  is  to  begin  week  after  next." 

"I  must  first  go  home  and  see  what  they  say  about  it 
there,"  Don  replied,  rather  overwhelmed  at  this  summary  way 
of  doing  business. 

"Oh,  I  went  down  to  the  house  first,  and  your  father  said 
yes,  providing  you  thought  you  could  manage  a  school.  It's 
between  us  two  now ;  if  you're  not  minded  that  way»  I'll  hunt 
up  somebody  else." 

Don  stood  hesitating  when  Peter  broke  in  with:  "How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions.  The  Scriptures  bid  ye  to 
do  with  all  your  might  whatsoever  your  hands  find  to  do;  see 
Ecclesiastes  nine  and  ten." 

"I'll  go,"  said  Don,  acting  rather  upon  his  own  judgment 
than  upon  the  texts  Peter  was  inclined  to  fling  at  him. 

"You  win  board  at  my  house;  there  is  nothing  else  for  me 
to  say;  so,  good  day."  And  Mr.  Tubbins  walked  away  with- 
out deigning  another  word  or  look. 

"Blunt  as  a  peekax  and  straight  as  a  crowbar,"  was  Peter's 
comment  as  Tubbins  disappeared  over  the  wall  into  the  high- 


-^jfc"— - ..«  J  . 


•  fii^r'fiiiatf' 


mmm^ 


Wf^^ 


82 


AIR    0A8TLR    DON 


:m  i'- 


way.  "Yr'll  ken  him  a'  right  withouten  ony  deectionary. 
But  ye  maun  fcenish  the  well  afore  ye  take  the  schoolmaster'i 
rod." 

"Of  course,"  responded  Don,  at  the  same  moment  making 
for  the  rope  and  sliding  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  well  again, 
well  satisfied  with  himself  and  all  the  world  besides. 

He  had  resumed  his  labors  but  a  short  time  when  he  called 
out:    "Peter,  I've  struck  a  pile  of  money!" 

"What  do  ye  mean?"  asked  Pe'  r.  thinking  that  Don  was 
making  sport  of  him  in  the  fullness  ot  his  spirits. 

"There  is  money  here  in  the  dirt,"  and  Bon  threw  a  num- 
ber of  black  coin  into  the  pail,  saying:  "Pull  the  pail  up  and 
see  for  yourself." 

"Lord  help  us!"  Peter  exclaimed  in  alarm,  while  he  turned 
the  coin  over  in  his  hand;  "I  hope  Providence  isna  goin'  to 
spoil  ye  by  puttin'  gowd  unner  your  feet  now  that  ye're  elected 
to  become  a  teacher  o'  bairns."  But  he  presently  added  with 
a  sigh  of  relief:  "Ye're  delivered  frae  temtation,  lad,  for  the 
stuff  turns  to  dust  though  ye  try  it  never  so  little." 

They  were  working  through  an  old  cellar  over  which  a 
house  had  gone  up  in  fire  many  years  before.  The  total  num- 
ber of  coin  discovered  were  few  and  of  no  value.  Being  Span- 
ish pistareens  r.iade  of  adulterated  silver,  they  were  so 
thoroughly  corroded  that  they  broke  and  crumbled  like  so 
much  clay.  The  owner  of  the  premises  happening  along  was 
informed  of  the  discovery,  and  became  so  excited  that  he 
ordered  Don  out  of  the  well  and  went  down  himself  to  see  what 
he  could  find.  He  was  of  such  ample  girth  that  he  was  like 
a  cork  in  th^  nouth  of  a  bottle.  Before  he  could  be  brought 
to  the  surfac<'  again  half  a  dozen  men  had  to  be  called.  The 
only  way  they  could  get  him  out  was  by  rigging  a  derrick  and 
pulling  him  up  by  block  and  tackle. 


;.-,i,ji>.:'.---,J'fll 


eectionary. 
[)olmaiter't 

Etit  making 
well  again, 

;n  he  called 

at  Don  was 

rew  a  num- 
pail  up  and 

le  he  turned 
sna  goin*  to 
ye're  elected 
r  added  with 
lad,  (or  the 

ver  which  a 
e  total  num- 
Being  Span- 
ey    were    so 
bled  like  so 
ig  along  was 
ited  that  he 
to  see  what 
he  was  like 
be  brought 
called.    The 
I  derrick  and 


'  .'Pf^,%'*^BgliW-qr''',i«fiPPH'''-'*Jy  Wfftl^ 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 

He  w  so  blown  and  red  when  he  reached  the  surface  and 
was  dumped  on  the  grass  to  recover  himself,  that  Peter  look- 
ing upon  him  with  a  grim  peppery  satisfaction,  muttered  to 
himself:  "Gin  the  hole  had  been  deeper  the  auld  coof  would 
ha'  broken  through  in^o  the  bottomless  peet,  an'  then  he  would 
ha'  looked  redder  than  he  is  now." 

When  Mr.  Pauncefort  was  able  to  stand  up,  being  a  man 
of  active  suspicions  and  dormant  honor,  he  looked  at  Peter 
and  Don  and  intimated  that  they  might  have  found  something 
of  value  and  concealed  it  about  their  persons. 

At  this  Peter  shook  his  fist  in  the  man's  face  and  said  in 
great  anger:  "Pll  work  no  more  on  yon  well  tho'  ye  gae 
wi'out  water  thro'  a'  eternity ;"  and  he  stalked  off,  followed  by 
Don,  who,  though  he  said  nothing,  was  white  with  wrath. 

Pauncefort  attempted  to  call  them  back  to  their  work,  but 
his  appeal  fell  upon  deaf  ears. 

"The  mon  has  no  more  respect  for  the  ten  commandments 
than  he  has  for  the  sermon  on  the  mount,"  growled  Peter,  "an* 
tliat's  why  he  thinks  there's  nae  bottom  to  onny  body  else's 
morality  an'  Chreestianity.  In  body  he's  as  beeg  as  puncheon, 
but  in  soul  he's  as  sma'  as  flea.  Gin  ye  see  a  mon  wha's 
always  spiren'  for  faults  in  ither  people,  ye  may  be  sure  he's 
as  full  o'  holes  as  a  sieve." 

Don's  time  was  now  mainly  spent  in  repairing  the  little  old 
sealskin  trunk  that  had  long  lain  in  the  garret,  and  in  packing 
into  it  his  personal  belongings  preparatory  to  his  rapidly 
approaching  departure.  It  was  a  proud  and  exciting  morning 
when  he  mounted  the  outside  of  the  stage  by  the  side  of  the 
whip,  after  having  condescendingly  received  the  parting 
salutes  of  the  family,  and  the  coach  with  its  full  fare  of  pas- 
sengers rolled  over  the  bridge  on  its  way  to  Argylc. 

At  the  end  of  the  bridge  Peter  stood  with  uplifted  hand  u 


^-  -i.,A-;f.Ji<fl 


"^ 


rewsm 


f:.' 


^ 


34 


AIR    GA8TLB    DON 


a  peremptory  sign  for  the  coachman  to  pull  up.  The  stage 
stopped,  but  the  whip  protested  that  he  had  no  room  for  an 
extra  passenger. 

Nevertheless  Peter  climbed  to  the  place  where  Don  sat, 
and  with  the  utmost  deliberation  and  solemnity  said:  "Ye 
mind,  lad,  Revelations  ten  and  second,  where  the  angel  set  his 
right  foot  upon  the  sea,  an'  his  left  foot  on  the  earth?  That's 
a  safe  trick  for  an  angel;  but  na  lad  like  you  should  try  rt  on. 
Keep  baith  o'  your  feet  on  solid  land.  When  ye're  an  angel  ye 
can  cut  up  angels'  capers."  Mid  the  laughter  of  the  passeng- 
ers, the  blushes  of  Don  and  the  anathemas  of  the  whip,  Peter 
hobbled  down  to  the  road  again  and  watched  the  coach  till  it 
rolled  out  of  sight. 

This  was  Don's  first  coach  trip  and  the  ride  through  the 
pines  and  over  the  barrens,  around  the  head  of  harbors  and  by 
the  foot  of  lakes  filled  him  with  keen  delight.  At  noon  he 
reached  his  destination,  sorry  that  his  journey  was  at  an  end. 

"Punctual  as  the  spring  swallows,"  said  Tubbins  by  way  of 
greeting.  A  minute  afterward  Don  and  his  trunk  were  in  his 
snug  quarters.  Having  brushed  and  washed  away  the  dust  of 
travel  he  went  down  to  an  ample  dinner,  of  which  Tubbins 
remarked:  "It  is  better  than  you  will  average  here.  We 
knew  that  the  piney  woods  would  give  you  :«n  extra  appetite, 
and  so  we  have  put  on  extra  fixings.  Everything  is  in  readi- 
ness for  you  at  the  schoolhouse,  and  I  have  cut  a  fine  birch 
switch  and  placed  it  on  the  wall  behind  your  desk  in  full  sight." 

"I  hope  that  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  use  it,"  said  Don, 
who  had  no  stomach  for  compulsory  virtues. 

"Hope  you  will,  sir,"  Tubbins  said  bluntly.  "A  school 
without  a  rod  is  like  a  church  without  a  Bible ;"  and  the  chief 
school  committeeman  looked  at  Don  and  sniffed  at  him  as  if 
he  had  detected  the  odor  of  heresy  in  his  garments. 


m 


',^i-u.^^»iil)■k>iMi!i:Li*-i■■'^&^)^iS^iM 


■^'•~r"'^*-t.-"rw^yr  '■'  *:'i^v,  '-'!('•* 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


86 


The  stage 
oom  for  an 

■e  Don  sat, 
said:    "Ye 
mgel  set  his 
th?    That's 
lid  try  ?t  on. 
:  an  angel  ye 
the  passeng- 
whip,  Peter 
:  coach  till  it 

through  the 
irbors  and  by 
At  noon  he 
as  at  an  end. 
ins  by  way  oi 
k  were  in  his 
ly  the  dust  of 
hich  Tubbins 
here.    We 
xtra  appetite, 
ig  is  in  readi- 
t  a  fine  birch 
in  full  sight." 
It,"  said  Don, 

"A  school 
and  the  chief 
id  at  him  as  if 
Its. 


Juvenile  nature  in  Argyle  was  as  timid  and  gentle  as  the 
lambs  on  the  hillsides,  and  there  was  no  occasion  for  the  use 
of  the  birch,  save  once.  A  raw  girl,  fifteen  years  of  age,  from 
the  first  of  Don's  appearance  became  infatuated  with  him,  and 
spent  most  of  her  time  in  the  school-room  in  pouring  out  upon 
him  from  her  great,  sky-blue  eyes  a  flood  of  amatory  glances. 
The  young  master  threatened  her  with  the  rod  if  she  did  not 
look  more  at  her  books  than  at  him.  The  threat  proving 
unavailing,  he  called  her  up  before  the  school  and  gave  her  a 
couple  of  taps  on  the  palm  of  her  right  hand.  They  were  so 
gentle,  however,  that  the  girl,  regarding  them  as  a  favor, 
smiled  in  his  very  face,  and  went  back  to  her  seat  to  resume 
her  looks.  The  school  giggled,  and  Don  relinquished  all 
attempts  to  subdue  the  fervor  of  her  eyes,  although  they, 
instead  of  conquering  him,  chilled  him  like  the  staring  eyes  of 
a  codfish  fresh  from  the  deep. 

Saturdays  were  days  of  freedom  and  ecstasy.  With  Tub- 
bins'  boat  at  his  disposal,  Don  rowed  and  drifted  among  the 
hundreds  of  islands  of  Argyle  Bpv  like  one  roaming  in  fairy- 
land. For  change,  he  would  take  Tubbins'  old  white  mare  and 
ride  up  among  the  Tusket  Lakes,  where  among  the  hundred  or 
more  crystal-clear  water  gems,  he  would  fish  and  dream  to  his 
heart's  content.  Like  "  Tan  Pile  Jim,"  he  could  scarcely  feel 
the  necessity  of  getting  ready  for  another  world  when  this  one 
looked  so  beautiful. 

The  winter  was  not  so  pleasant;  the  deep  snow  was  diffi- 
cult to  wade  through,  and  the  fierce  congealing  blasts  were 
hard  to  face.  His  fireless  room  was  like  the  interior  of  an 
iceberg.  At  bedtime  he  buried  his  head  under  the  ample  pile 
of  quilts,  but  only  to  find,  when  the  morning  came,  that  every 
opening  where  his  breath  had  found  vent  was  spangled  with 
frost-flakes,  which,  however  beautiful,  were  like  jewels  set  in  a 


.**l{%*r^ 


PSjppfip^j^^ipsjIJf^if 


86  AIR    CASTLE    DON 

refrigerator.  At  the  schoolhouse,  not  over  tight  at  best,  Jack 
Frost  played  all  sorts  of  pranks  notwithstanding  the  wood 
went  into  the  great  stove  at  the  rate  of  a  tree  a  day.  Trials 
have  their  uses,  and  in  the  absence  of  outdoor  attractions, 
teacher  and  scholars  made  advances  in  their  work  at  a  gait 
that  delighted  Tubbins. 

"I  did  a  good  thing  for  Argyle  when  I  pulled  you  out  of 
that  well  in  Barrington,"  he  said  to  Don  one  day,  after  putting 
the  school  through  a  committee  inspection. 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  Don  responded  simply,  blushing 
to  hear  himself  praised. 

"Even  Milly  Hatfield  has  caught  the  study  fever,"  said 
Tubbins,  referring  to  the  girl  with  the  codfish  eyes.  "That's 
because  she  doesn't  worship  you  as  much  as  she  did.  I 
thought  for  awhile  that  we  should  have  to  remove  her  from 
school,  she  looked  at  you  so  steadily.  Seeing  so  much  of  you 
has  disenchanted  her;"  and  Tubbins  chuckled  over  his  own 
sapiency. 

With  the  return  of  the  green  leaves  and  the  singing  birds 
Don  resumed  his  voyaging  among  the  islands  and  his  rambles 
among  the  lakes.  A  great  change  was  taking  place  in  him. 
He  felt  as  though  he  must  plume  his  own  wings  and  take  a 
flight  into  the  great  world.  His  elder  brothers,  with  the  irre- 
sistible instincts  of  Americans,  had  already  gone  over  to  the 
States.  One  was  supposed  to  be  in  Boston,  in  an  apothecary 
shop,  and  another  in  the  same  city  making  ready  for  a  voyage 
around  the  world  in  a  clipper  ship.  Another  was  somewhere 
in  the  interior  of  Massachusetts  taking  an  academic  course  of 
study;  and  still  another  was  somewhere  in  New  Hampshire 
making  his  first  experiments  in  preaching,  upon  a  country 
congregation. 

Seeing  the  topmasts  of  a  schooner  peeping  over  the  tree- 


■5.'-  ..,,■■;.■,  >«■";«>  it »S*'*f«>i-v.*i».r!';wi^Si«SSrfl 


best,  Jack 

the  wood 
ay.  Trials 
attractions, 
k  at  a  gait 

you  out  of 

iter  putting 

ly,  blushing 

fever,"  said 
es.  "That's 
she  dii.  1 
ive  her  from 
much  of  you 
»ver  his  own 

singing  birds 
i  his  rambles 
ilace  in  him. 
s  and  take  a 
ivith  the  irre- 
;  over  to  the 
,n  apothecary 
or  a  voyage 
IS  somewhere 
mic  course  of 
V  Hampshire 
3n  a  country 

3ver  the  tree- 


::fFW^f0^''^i'f>  :*fmw*^w^^ 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


87 


tops  of  one  of  the  harbor  islands  one  Saturday  morning,  Don 
rowed  off  and  boarded  her.  To  his  surprise  he  saw  that  she 
was  named  The  Milly  Hatfield,  and  when  he  reached  the  deck 
he  was  still  more  surprised  to  learn  that  the  captain  was  Milly's 
father.  He  soon  learned  that  the  captain  and  his  crew  were 
getting  ready  for  a  trip  to  Boston. 

"When  do  you  sail?"  Don  asked. 

"One  week  from  to-day,  at  eleven  sharp,  wind  and  weather 
permitting." 

"Will  you  take  me  for  a  passenger,"  said  Don,  seized  with 
a  sudden  inspiration. 

"Certainly — half  a  dozen  of  you,  if  you  wish ;  and  you  have 
done  so  much  in  the  way  of  packing  Milly's  head  with  common 
sense,  the  trip  sha'n't  cost  you  a  cent."  And  the  dry  old  cap- 
tain looked  at  him  so  quizzically,  Don  felt  as  if  a  package  of 
needles  had  been  using  him  for  a  needle-cushion. 

"But  I  am  in  earnest." 

"So  am  I." 

"Thank  you.     I'll  be  on  hand  ^or  the  trip," 

"Coming  back  this  way?" 

"Of  course  not." 

"Have  you  received  permission  from  home?" 

"No,"  said  Don  with  emphasis,  tossing  his  head  with  a 
swaggering  swing.  "I  guess  I  can  take  care  of  myself."  His 
experience  in  school  had  puffed  his  vanity  and  independence  to 
a  dangerous  extent,  and  he  was  ready  to  lock  horns  with 
almost  anything  in  the  way  of  adventure. 

"Very  well;  if  you  can  risk  it,  I'll  do  the  same;  but  I  hope 
you  have  laid  in  a  good  supply  of  sand  and  g^rit.  Boston  isn't 
Barrington.  you  know.  And  a  youngster  like  you  makes  a 
small  showing  among  the  old  elephants  of  a  city." 

But  Don  was  not  to  be  frightened.    On  the  Friday  follow- 


j-.-.t^fcajS^teSP'? 


'^M 


ma 


gn 


fjtm 


wmm 


mmm^^r^i^^. 


88 


AIR   OASTLB    DON 


i 


h 


■' 


\ng  Tubbins  paid  him  an  even  fifty  dollars,  after  deducting  his 
board. 

On  Saturday  morning  he  rowed  his  young  boarder  out  to 
the  Miliy  Hatfield,  and  found  her  just  at  the  point  of  raising 
her  anchor. 

"If  the  Yankees  prove  too  much  for  you,"  said  he,  "come 
back  to  Argyle  and  we  will  give  you  the  school  for  the  next 
season.  And  if  you  stay  here  long  enough,  perhaps  Captain 
Hatfield  will  give  you  his  daughter,  and  throw  the  vessel  in 
to  boot." 

The  allusion  to  Milly  almost  destroyed  the  possibility  of  a 
sentimental  separation  from  the  jocular  Tubbins,  and  Don 
replied  with  inward  ire:  "You  may  be  sure  that  I'll  never 
come  back  to  Nova  Scotia  to  live;  no,  not  for  all  the  gins  and 
all  the  vessels  in  the  province." 

"Well,  bore's  a  good-bye  to  you,  and  good  luck  to  you 
wherever  you  go,"  said  Tubbins  with  strong  feeling  as  he  went 
over  the  rail  and  turned  his  boat  to  shore. 

The  Hatfield  pulled  her  anchor  to  the  cathead  immediately, 
and  after  disentangling  herself  from  the  many  islands  of 
Argyle  Bay,  pointed  her  head  directly  for  Boston.  If  she  had 
been  as  big  as  The  Great  Eastern,  her  capacity  would  have 
been  inadequate  for  the  cargo  of  expectations  Don  carried 
secreted  under  his  vest. 

Midway  the  Bay  of  Fundy  the  vessel  ran  into  a  gale  of 
wind  that  raised  such  a  tempestuous  sea,  Don  was  turned  into 
a  hive  of  miniature  volcanoes.  In  the  agony  of  his  throes  he 
thought  of  Peter  Piper's  last  words,  and  from  the  bottom  of 
his  soul  wished  that  instead  of  putting  both  feet  upon  the  sea 
he  had  been  wise  enough  to  glue  them  to  the  land.  When 
fairer  weather  returned  his  spii  .is  went  to  the  masthead  again, 
and  the  horizon  once  mbre  became  roseate  with  youthful  hopes 
and  anticipations. 


"-■'l..-'4 


l!"'!l{tr'1B"?^T   ' 


noting  his 

ler  out  to 
of  raising 

he,  "come 
r  the  next 
)s  Captain 
:  vessel  in 

ibility  of  a 
and  Don 
I'll  never 

e  gins  and 

ick  to  you 
as  he  went 

nmediately, 

islands   of 

If  she  had 

vould  have 

)on  carried 

a  gale  of 
turned  into 
is  throes  he 

bottom  of 

pon  the  sea 

nd.    When 

liead  again, 

ithful  hopes 


CHAPTER   IV. 


«  .'- .    ■  -; 


IN  THE  CITY  OP  NOTIONS. 

Don's  head  was  packed  with  points  concerning  the  possi- 
bilities of  boys.  From  the  parental  fountain,  from  the  Sunday 
school  corner,  from  the  pulpit,  and  from  the  pages  of  divers 
books  that  gave  patent  recipes  for  getting  on  in  the  world,  he 
had  acquired  a  stock  of  principles  and  examples  sufficient  to 
equip  a  regiment  of  boys.  Even  a  bishop  had  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  frowzy  head  of  hair  and  predicted  for  him  success  and 
distinction.  • 

By  the  most  approved  processes  it  had  been  drilled  into  him 
that  many  a  hoy  who  began  his  career  barefooted  had  reached 
conditions  in  life  in  which  he  was  able  to  wear  a  different  pair 
of  shoes  for  every  day  in  the  week.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
him  that  all  boys — and  girls,  too,  for  that  matter,  are  born  bare- 
footed. Much  less  was  he  aware  that  in  spite  of  the  best  foot- 
wear no  means  had  yet  been  devised  by  which  one  could 
entirely  avoid  an  occasional  stubbing  of  one's  toes  against 
unforseen  obstructions.  Being  so  full  of  the  idea  of  wearing 
patent  leather  shoes  and  walking  on  paved  streets,  there  was 
not  enough  room  left  for  him  to  think  of  things  which  might 
joggle  his  understanding  and  pitch  him  forward  on  lines  not 
in  keeping  with  a  strict  perpendicular.  Fortunate  it  is  for 
boys  that  their  hatbands  are  not  measured  by  their  thoughts, 
for  a  hatband  several  miles  in  circumference  would  be  an 
inconvenient  thing  to  carry  on  one's  head. 

(39) 


5! 


■••si 


i^j.';>i>j.> 


'Kift'i'l 


40 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


The  Hatfield  was  approaching  her  destination  when  the 
lookout  at  the  fore  shouted:     "Land,  ho!" 

The  inexperienced  eye  could  see  only  three  purple  spots  on 
the  horizon  ahead,  but  the  captain  recognized  in  them  the  Blue 
Hills,  and  the  Wachusetts  and  the  Monadnock  mountains. 
Presently  the  whole  coastline  rose  out  of  the  sea  like  a  blue 
cloud,  and  Boston  Lighthouse  could  be  seen  pencilled  dis- 
tinctly against  the  sky.  Passing  the  frowning  fortifications  of 
the  harbor  the  Milly  Hatfield  dropped  her  anchor  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  end  of  Long  Wharf.  The  dome  of  the  capitol 
and  the  gray  shaft  of  Bunker  Hill  monument  seemed  to  Don 
to  be  among  the  wonders  of  the  world.  But  what  most 
impressed  him  was  the  forest  of  steeples,  for  he  thought  where 
there  were  so  many  churches  there  must  be  few  chances  for  a" 
boy  like  himself  to  come  to  harm.  > 

In  the  midst  of  his  reflections  the  customs'  officer  pulled 
alongside  and  soon  after  was  rummaging  his  trunk  with  scant 
respect  for  its  contents.  Don  consoled  himself  for  the  dese- 
cration by  watching  him  while  he  performed  the  same  cere- 
mony for  the  personal  baggage  of  the  captain  and  his  crew. 

"Now  thnt  you  are  here,"  said  the  captain  to  Don  as  soon 
as  the  officer  had  disappeared,  "where  are  you  going  to 
put  up?" 

"At  Covert's  boarding  house  on  North  Square,"  was  the 
prompt  answer.  "That  is  where  my  brothers  put  up  when 
they  are  here." 

"Very  good,  my  lad;  then  we'll  keep  each  other  company; 
for  that  is  where  I  always  stay  when  I  am  in.  port.  We  will 
send  our  duds  up  by  dray,  and  walk  up  ourselves,  for  as  soon 
as  you  set  foot  within  a  city,  you  must  tighten  the  strap  around 
your  pocket  book  and  make  a  business  of  seeing  how  little 
money  you  can  spend.    Pocket  books  in  a  place  like  this  soon 


-  '•-li&ittl^T^lj^^  'i 


'^,J^»iW[..WB^<t^Jiit*/!;''''-"',;»w^'fr.w^^^ 


▲IR    0A8TLB    DON 


41 


hen  the 

spots  on 
tlie  Blue 
untains. 
:e  a  blue 
iUed  dis- 
:ations  of 
ihort  dis- 
le  capitol 
d  to  Don 
hat  most 
jht  where 
nces  for  a 

:er  pulled 
ivith  scant 

the  dese- 
anie  cere- 
s  crew, 
m  as  soon 

going  to 

"  was  the 
up  when 

company; 

We  will 

>r  as  soon 

[ap  around 

Ihow  little 

this  soon 


become  flabby  unless  you  keep  the  stuiHng  in  them  as  long  as 
you  can." 

Don  thought  of  his  fifty  dollars  and  felt  quite  sure  that  it 
would  be  a  long  time  before  his  wealth  could  take  wings  to 
itself  and  fly  away. 

The  most  verdant  thing  in  all  this  world  is  a  lad  dropped 
from  the  heart  of  the  country  into  the  heart  of  a  city  for  the 
first  time,  except,  perhaps,  the  lad  who  is  dropped  from  the 
heart  of  the  city  into  the  heart  of  the  country  for  the  first  time. 
Don  had  heard  of  Boston  as  The  City  of  Notions,  but  had 
vague  ideas  as  to  the  origin  of  the  phrase.  Now  he  was  sure 
that  he  understood  why  the  words  were  used;  the  variety  of 
buildings,  the  diversity  of  the  people  on  the  streets,  the  multi- 
tude of  things  offered  for  sale,  the  crookedness  of  the  thor- 
oughfares and  the  lack  of  uniformity  among  the  vehicles  made 
it  all  as  plain  as  day.  Later  in  his  experience  he  enlarged  his 
understanding. 

Ascending  a  hill,  and  turning  through  a  narrow  dingy- 
street  they  entered  a  small  triangular  space  which  the  captain 
said  was  the  square  for  which  they  were  seeking.  At  the  top 
of  the  hill  they  came  to  the  head  of  the  square,  and  midway  the 
block  that  formed  one  side  of  the  square  they  stopped  in  front 
of  a  comparatively  modem  red  brick  four-story  house,  down 
the  stoop  of  which  ran  a  pair  of  highly  polished  brass  railings. 
At  the  door  they  were  met  by  a  middle-aged  man  who  had  a 
flaring  set  of  false  teeth,  a  thick  shock  of  black  false  hair,  a  pair 
of  narrow  watery  eyes  and  an  artificial  smile  that  was  a  perpet- 
ual fixture  along  the  straight  lines  that  answered  for  lips. 

"Hello  Hatfield!"  exclaimed  a  thin  nasal  voice  which  came 
from  the  top  of  the  nose  instead  of  from  the  bottom  of  the 
lungs.  "I  was  just  thinking  of  you  and  bluenose  potatoes. 
You  know  you  promised  to  bring  me  fifty  bushels  when  you 


2,4:);,ife**»i-i*M!&  • 


■r-.i'\XP»:<iiSsiK-^n:^KH>-Ti.': 


^„^^^^g*i-' 


.-*_  -J :>iv:m  JJkJi0f, 


^ 


^ 


i 


■: 


42 


■H" 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


came  over  again.  My  boarders  think  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  like  bluenose  murphies."  And  he  shook  Hatfield  by  the 
hand  with  the  heartiness  of  an  apparent  friend. 

"The  potatoes  are  on  board  all  right,"  Hatfield  responded, 
laughingly,  and  with  a  deep  sub-bass  of  a  voice  that,  by  con- 
trast, made  Covert's  voice  sound  like  the  squeal  of  a  mouse  or 
the  squeak  of  a  door-hinge.  "But  let  me  introduce  you  to 
this  boy;  he's  a  brother  of  the  Donalds  tribe,  of  whom  you 
have  had  four  here  already.  He's  out  to  take  a  look  at  the 
world,  and  wants  you  to  take  him  in  for  awhile.  He's  going 
to  become  a  millionaire  and  will  stay  with  you  until  he  can  get 
his  bearings." 

"I'm  rather  particular  about  my  boarders,  but  I  know  that 
his  tribe  is  a  good  one,  and  I'll  take  him  in  with  pleasure," 
said  Covert,  extending  a  hand,  the  touch  of  which  made  Don 
feel  as  if  he  were  shaking  an  eel  that  had  just  been  pulled  from 
a  mud-hole.  The  looks,  voice  and  touch  of  the  man  con- 
vinced Don  off-hand  that  either  the  church  steeples  had  failed 
to  do  their  duty  by  him  or  else  had  failed  to  make  any 
impression  upon  him. 

They  were  now  in  the  reception  room,  where  they  were 
met  by  Mrs.  Covert,  a  short,  thick,  red-skinned  woman,  whose 
studiously  benevolent  face  seemed  to  make  immediate  amends 
for  her  husband's  abounding  deficiencies.  Don  thought  that 
she  was  certainly  the  better  half  of  the  man,  and  he  immedi- 
ately jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  excuse  he  had  for 
sharing  the  premises  with  her  was  the  fact  that  he  was  her 
man-of-all-work. 

Hatfield  began  to  make  inquiries  about  the  Donalds 
brothers  in  the  hope  that  some  of  them  were  in  the  house,  or 
at  least  in  the  vicinity. 

"The  one  who  is  the  first  officer  of  The  John  Bertram  sailed 


iF^Bifrr' 


AIB    CA8TLB    DON 


:  in  the 
I  by  the 

ponded, 
by  con- 
ouse  or 

you  to 
om  you 
k  at  the 
's  going 

can  get 

low  that 
leasure," 
ade  Don 
lied  from 
lan  con- 
lad  failed 
lake  any 

ley  were 
,  whose 
amends 

ight  that 
immedi- 
had  for 
was  her 

Donalds 
lOUse,  or 

am  sailed 


for  China  yesterday,"  said  Mrs.  Covert.  The  one  that 
preaches  in  New  Hampshire,  together  with  the  one  who  is 
studying;  in  Worcester,  came  down  to  see  him  oflf.  They  left 
the  city  this  morning.  The  one  who  used  to  be  in  the  apothe- 
cary store  on  Blackstone  street  left  the  city  some  time  ago  for 
some  place  in  Rhode  Island. 

Seeing  that  Don  was  bitterly  disappointed,  she  immediately 
added,  with  a  great  show  of  sympathy:  "I  hope  that  you  will 
not  take  this  news  too  much  to  heart.  You  are  rather  young 
to  be  so  far  away  from  home  with  nobody  to  look  after  you. 
I  liked  your  brothers  and  shall  like  you.  Make  our  house 
your  home  and  consider  me  and  my  husband  as  your  friends, 
for  we  will  do  all  we  can  to  make  the  house  pleasant  for  you 
and  to  help  you  along." 

"And  all  this  for  only  five  dollars  a  week,  with  washing  and 
lights  free,"  squeaked  Mr.  Covert,  with  ostentatious  bluntness, 
and  looking  at  the  lad  as  if  estimating  his  resources  and  the 
amount  of  squeezing  he  would  bear. 

Don  thought  that  this  was-  a  somewhat  singular  way  of 
making  things  pleasant,  and  he  began  to  make  a  rapid  mental 
calculation,  the  effect  of  which  was  by  no  means  reassuring. 

"My  husband  never  thinks  of  anything  else  besides  dollars 
and  cents,"  said  the  woman.  "If  he  were  burying  me  he'd 
think  more  about  the  dollars  it  cost  than  he  would  about  the 
dead  and  lost.  I'm  not  built  that  way,  as  the  saying  is,  though 
if  he  were  to  die,  I  should  immediately  begin  to  look  for  a  man 
who  was  born  with  a  soul  in  him." 

Under  this  withering  attack  Mr.  Covert,  so  far  from  shrink- 
ing, only  extended  his  habitual  smile  up  his  nose  and  into  a 
tenuous  laugh  that  was  thinner  than  the  upper  notes  of  a  worn- 
out  singer. 

"My  wife  has  so  much  soul,"  he  squeaked,  "that  if  I  were 


t 


^:':,',-i-:J;K^ 


..    I'M 


mmmi, 


xV 


44 


Allt    0A8TLB    DON 


not  here  to  look  after  her,  her  boarders  would  crowd  her  into 
the  almshouse  in  less  than  six  months.  If  she  were  to  die  I'd 
hunt  up  someone  who  had  sense  enough  to  keep  her  heart 
under  lock  and  key." 

A  maturer  acquaintance  with  this  pair  of  human  oddities 
convinced  Don  that  there  was  a  good  business  understanding 
between  them  notwithstanding  the  apparent  discrepancy 
between  their  dispositions.  Mr.  Covert  made  profitable  trafHc 
in  his  wife's  seeming  generosity,  while  she  craftily  utilized  his 
ostentatious  meanness.  He  used  her  beaming  face  by  way  of 
attracting  customers ;  and  she  used  his  mercenary  spirit  by  way 
of  securing  prompt  payments  and  limited  expenditures. 

"Don't  take  either  of  them  too  seriously,"  said  the  knowing 
Hatfield,  when  both  husband  and  wife  had  left  the  room;  "but 
keep  your  eyes  peeled  for  both  of  them.  If  you  fear  the  man 
too  much  he'll  skin  the  hide  from  you,  and  if  you  trust  the 
woman  too  much,  the  effect  will  be  about  the  same.  The  only 
diflference  between  them  is,  she  rows  with  one  oar  on  one  side 
of  the  boat,  and  he  uses  the  other  one  on  the  other  side. 
Between  the  two  oars  they  keep  going  ahead  and  manage  to 
lay  up  considerable  of  their  boarders'  money." 

Don  spent  several  days  looking  about  the  city  and  getting 
used  to  the  stir  and  noise  of  the  metropolis  of  The  Old  Bay 
State.  The  streets  were  so  crooked  that  he  made  short  excur- 
sions at  first,  but  little  by  little  he  acquired  a  courage  which 
enabled  him  to  extend  his  adventures  to  Boston  Common  and 
the  old  historic  elm  tree,  which,  in  view  of  his  acquaintance 
with  the  monarchs  of  primeval  forests  looked  both  dilapidated 
and  disreputable.  And  the  Frog  Pond,  with  its  seven  by  nine 
dimensions  carefully  bounded  by  granite  curbing,  and  its  shal- 
low bottom  paved  with  cobble-stone,  and  its  dirty  water  kept 
from  evaporating  altogether  by  the  squirtings  of  a  fitful  foun- 


'  .V  itf'f^lDHS,  ^ 


''mmnT^'^fw^ywT'^ 


'mn'f    iv^v" 


er  into 
die  I'd 
r  heart 

)ddities 
landing 
•epancy 
e  traffic 
ized  his 
way  of 
by  way 

:nowing 
m;  "but 
the  man 
rust  the 
fhe  only 
one  side 
er  side, 
inage  to 

getting 
lid  Bay 
excur- 
which 
ion  and 
iaintance 
lapidated 
by  nine 
its  shal- 
iter  kept 
tul  foun- 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


•*  ;*<■.,-.  W.J 


46 


tain,  suffered  immensely  by  comparison  with  the  crystal-clear 
waters  of  the  ponds  and  lakes  he  was  familiar  with  in  the 
vicinity  of  home.  The  State  House  on  the  hill  caused  him  to 
remove  his  hat  while  he  wandered  to  and  fro  among  the  cor- 
ridors, but  The  Old  State  House  at  the  head  of  State  street, 
notwithstanding  its  colonial  associations,  failed  to  gain  from 
him  more  than  a  passing  contemptuous  glance.  The  Old 
South  Church,  and  The  Brattle  Street  Church,  with  its  osten- 
tatious cannon  ball  sticking  like  a  black  punctuation  point 
among  the  drab-painted  brick  were  grievous  disappointments. 
Later,  however,  when  his  Boston  tastes  were  more  generally 
and  intelligently  developed  he  swore  by  the  old  landmarks  with 
all  the  enthusiasm  of  one  to  the  manor  born,  for  there  is 
nothing  like  education  for  the  multiplication  of  exclamation 
points  in  one's  every  day  life. 

Hearing  of  The  Maeonion  as  the  place  where  Theodore 
Parker,  the  most  distinguished  preacher  of  Boston  preached, 
he  went  out  to  see  it.  When  he  came  out  of  the  building  his 
nose  pointed  the  wrong  way,  and  before  he  knew  it  he  was 
walking  among  green  fields  in  Roxbury.  He  was  badly  lost. 
If  it  had  been  a  case  of  being  lost  in  the  woods  of  the  primitive 
wilderness  of  the  government  lands  in  Nova  Scotia,  he  would 
have  turned  around  three  times  to  the  right,  and  three  times 
to  the  left,  and  then  with  three  sumersaults  to  finish  the  cere- 
mony, he  would  have  started  on  a  bee  line  for  home  as  surely 
as  if  he  were  guided  by  the  north  star  or  a  pocket  compass. 
But  he  did  not  dare  to  cut  up  any  such  capers  as  this  among 
the  people  who  were  passing.  Seeing  the  Old  South  steeple 
in  the  distance,  he  steered  a  straight  course  for  that,  and  by 
good  luck  reached  his  boarding  house  in  time  for  supper. 

"What  did  you  do  when  you  discovered  you  were  lost?" 
asked  one  of  the  boarders. 


'^T'Wdi 


'I 


;.«v&-if^S^ 


«iwipiiiiii|«inpp 


mrmrm^^  i  »|jim^in 


4A 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


"I  hailed  the  first  good  looking  man  I  met  and  requested 
him  to  tell  me  the  way  to  Mr.  Covert's  house."  Don  could 
not  quite  understand  why  the  table  broke  into  such  violent 
laughter  .it  hi»  answer. 

"What  did  he  say?"  inquired  Covert,  whose  smile  had  more 
semblance  of  genuineness  than  it  had  shown  for  many  a  day. 

"He  didn't  say  anything,  but  looked  at  me  in  a  puzzled  way 
and  then  hurried  on.  He  must  have  been  a  deaf  and  dumb 
man." 

The  laugh  broke  out  afresh,  and  Don  began  to  get  red  and 
angry. 

"The  next  time  you  get  lost,"  said  Covert,  "ask  the  way  to 
North  Square.  Although  this  square  is  respectable  enough  in 
itself,  it  is  at  the  head  of  Ann  street — the  worst  street  in  the 
city;  and  everybody  knows  where  the  worst  street  is,  just  as 
every  man  knows  his  neighbor's  worst  points." 

"Your  own  bad  points  are  so  conspicuously  prominent  that 
no  one  needs  be  at  the  trouble  of  hunting  for  them,"  s."  Mrs. 
Covert,  slyly. 

"Of  course  not,"  Covert  retorted,  with  seeming  anger.  "I 
wasn't  cut  out  for  an  angel,  as  you  were." 

The  boarders  had  become  so  accustomed  to  these  false 
sword  thrusts  that  they  took  no  notice  of  them,  except  to  put 
themselves  on  guard  against  any  fresh  demands  the  two  might 
combine  to  make  upon  them. 

The  boarders  consisted  of  fifteen  men  and  nine  ladies. 
The  first  time  Don  took  his  seat  at  dinner  he  thought  that  the 
ladies  were  the  most  wonderfully  and  fearfully  arranged  affairs 
that  were  ever  created.  And  he  tried  to  imagine  the  excite- 
ment that  their  appearance  would  make  in  a  place  like  Barring- 
ton.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  the  sex  in  all  the 
glory  of  widely  expanded  hoops,  elaborately  shirred  waists, 


to;- 


.niif  mm  »  ijnii>ifiin)^>i 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


41 


uested 

could 

iriolent 

1  more 

a  day. 

ed  way 

dumb 

'cd  and 

way  to 

jugh  in 

:  in  the 

just  as 

ent  that 
•     Mrs. 


iff. 


"I 


ise  false 

|t  to  put 

might 

ladies. 
Ithat  the 
affairs 
excite- 
larring- 
all  the 
waists, 


and  innumerable  soap  curls  arranged  around  the  upper  coun- 
tenance like  a  semi-circle  of  scroll-work.  The  rings  of  their 
fingers  made  him  think  that  there  must  also  be  bells  on  their 
toes. 

The  lady  who  sat  at  his  right  hand  was  passably  comely, 
but  aided  by  the  fashions  she  was  celestially  beautiful.  She 
had  the  manners  of  a  young  girl  and  he  fell  violently  in  love 
with  her  and  worshipped  her  for  a  week.  He  cultivated  the 
curls  on  his  own  head  and  contemplated  making  material 
improvements  in  his  own  wardrobe  during  that  time.  At  the 
end  of  the  week,  in  answer  to  a  fatal  inquiry,  Mrs.  Covert  said: 

"Miss  Arabella  Agincourt  is  of  good  family,  and  has  some 
means,  but  she  is  between  thirty  and  forty,  has  man-made  teeth 
and  a  very  unsuccessful  way  of  besieging  the  affections  of  men. 
She  has  tried  each  one  of  your  brothers,  but  without  favorable 
results.  What  her  object  is  in  dallying  with  you  is  more  than 
I  can  conjecture.  She  may  possibly  thin'  that  by  lavishing 
her  kindness  upon  you  she  may  regain  ilie  chance  to  hook 
some  one  of  your  brothers.  She  is  very  anxious  to  become  a 
sea  captain's  wife  and  has  made  desperate  attempts  to  capture 
your  eldest  brother.  I  shall  not  say  anything  against  her,  for 
she  will  make  a  most  excellent  old  maid." 

This  drastic  dose  ended  Don's  illusions  and  set  him  to 
thinking  about  more  serious  things.  He  determined  to  visit 
his  clerical  brother  and  get  his  advice  as  to  what  his  course 
should  be.  He  had  never  travelled  by  railway  and  when  he 
took  his  seat  in  a  car  for  the  first  time  his  sensations  were 
novel.  While  wondering  how  any  power  on  earth  could  draw 
after  it  such  a  palace-like  vehicle,  the  train  started.  It  was  his 
impression  that  an  earthquake  had  taken  it  in  tow,  and  when 
the  speed  increased  to  an  express  rate,  he  was  quite  sure  that 
the  first  earthquake  had  been  reinforced  by  another.    He  sat 


I  ..y.  >'8v''*^.«u»iWW-i«'^' 


•I'lii'lUi 'ii'iVl'.'-r-til 


nppp^^wflp 


48 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


:.' 


bolt  upright  and  held  on  to  the  seat  in  front  of  him.  The 
screeching  of  the  whistle  at  every  road-crossing  was  a  gjreater 
mystery  than  he  had  ever  heard  preached  from  the  pulpit,  and 
vr.st'y  more  trying  to  the  nerves.  Observing  that  the  other 
passengers  evinced  no  alarm,  he  slackened  his  strained  muscles 
and,  after  a  little,  ventured  to  take  snap-glances  at  the  whirling 
landscape.  ^ 

On  arriving  at  the  scattered  hamlet  of  Puddlewit,  in  New 
Hampshire,  he  asked  the  station  agent,  who  aped  the  manners 
of  a  major  general  and  spoke  the  language  of  an  ignoramus, 
to  direct  him  to  the  house  where  his  brother — giving  his  name 
— ^was  staying. 

"Rev.  Donalds  haint  stayin'  nowheres  in  this  place  at  pres- 
ent," was  the  curt  and  impatient  reply.  And  then,  for  a 
wonder,  he  voluntarily  expended  a  little  more  breath  in  add- 
ing: "From  what  I  hear,  he  won't  come  back  here  no  more. 
He's  such  a  shadow  of  a  fellow,  it's  a  wonder  he  can  stay  any- 
wheres long  enough  for  anybody  to  make  out  the  shape  of  his 
body.  If  you're  gonter  chase  him  about,  you'd  better  straddle 
the  wires  and  send  yourself  along  by  elfectricity.  If  you  want 
to  get  back  to  where  you  came  from,  the  train  will  be  along  in 
two  hours  fro'.n  now." 

Don  was  so  hurt  at  heart,  and  withal  so  angered  at  the 
agent's  boorishness,  he  turned  his  back  on  him  and  began  to 
pace  the  platform.  A  passing  farmer  seeing  his  restlessness 
and  woe-begone  appearance,  spoke  kindly  to  him,  and  after 
melting  him  into  a  communicative  mood,  insisted  upon  taking 
him  home  to  dinner. 

"I'm  a  deacon  in  the  church  to  which  your  brother 
pleached,"  he  said  at  the  dinner  table,  "and  he  left  word  with 
me  to  forward  his  mail  to  Logville,  Maine.  We  liked  him 
well,  but  a  bigger  church  got  hold  of  him  and  pulled  him  away 


'W^ 


=7"1'i"*',''■"'^'^'i;!•■"''''^'*/!*5*■'*■^'*'''■'^"^T  ■"■'"^-'^ 


••C>v.r,#Tv-rt-i£:™»'' !  'v--sv'V --mtv. 


AIB    CASTLE    DON 


49 


im.  The 
a  greater 
ulpit,  and 
the  other 
d  muscles 
;  whirling 

t,  in  New 
;  manners 
fnoramus, 
;  his  name 

:e  at  pres- 
len,  for  a 
th  in  add- 
;  no  more. 
I  stay  any- 
lape  of  his 
er  straddle 
you  want 
e  along  in 

Ired  at  the 
began  to 

lestlessness 
and  after 
lon  taking 

ir  brother 

Iword  with 

liked  him 

him  away 


from  us.  It  is  ail  right,  however;  if  a  minister  does  not  look 
after  his  own  pie  and  pudding,  no  one  else  will  do  it  for  him. 
'Covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts'  is  what  the  Bible  says;  and  I 
suppose  that  the  rule  is  intended  to  work  for  the  benefit  of  the 
ministers  as  well  as  for  the  benefit  of  the  churches." 

The  good  man  pressed  Don  to  spend  the  night  with  him, 
saying:  "It  will  give  you  a  chance  to  look  over  the  country, 
which  your  brother  said  was  as  pretty  a  bit  of  scenery  as  God 
ever  decorated  the  earth  willi.  He  rambled  about  here  a  good 
deal  and  made  use  ot  the  things  he  saw  in  such  a  way  in  the 
pulpit  that  we  had  to  keep  our  own  eyes  open  to  see  what  was 
going  to  come  next.  Most  of  the  preachers  we  have  had  here 
gave  us  such  common  things  in  such  a  common  way  that  I 
have  wondered  why  the  patent  medicine  men  have  not  bottled 
them  up  and  advertised  them  for  sleep-producing  remedies,  to 
be  taken  just  before  going  to  bed." 

Don  returned  to  Boston  on  the  next  train,  and  the  follow- 
ing day  went  to  Worcester  in  search  of  his  brother,  but  only 
to  learn  that  he  had  removed  to  a  distant  field  to  take  charge 
of  an  academy. 

Seeing  that  the  stranger  lad  was  much  cast  down  by  this 
intelligence,  the  principal  sympathetically  drew  from  him  some 
account  of  his  desires  and  purposes,  and,  in  the  end  urged  him 
to  enter  the  school,  assuring  him  that  he  could  easily  And  work 
enough  to  provide  for  his  board,  while  the  tuition  fees  might 
remain  a  debt  until  such  times  as  he  was  able  to  pay  it. 

Although  strongly  inclined  to  accept  the  offer,  Don,  on 
second  thought,  revolted  against  the  idea  of  putting  a  mort- 
gage on  his  future.  "Pay  as  you  go"  was  a  cherished  rule, 
and  he'  determined  not  to  become  divorceil  from  it. 

Thanking  the  kind  principal  for  his  generous  interest  in  a 
total  stranger,  Don  turned  his  back  upon  the  attractive  build- 
ings and  beautiful  grounds  and  returned  to  Boston. 


:^mmii 


TPf 


tmw 


CHAPTER   V. 


AN  ATTIC   PHILOSOPHER. 


Don's  resources  were  rapidly  dwindling.  It  became  neces- 
sary for  him  to  reduce  his  expenses  and  to  procure  employ- 
ment. Believing  in  doing  one  thing  at  a  time,  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  consult  with  Mrs.  Covert  concerning  a  lower  rate 
of  board,  which  he  thought  he  could  obtain  by  taking  a  smaller 
and  less  advantageous  room. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Covert  cautiously,  "  if  you  are  get- 
ting out  of  money,  you  must  fit  your  outlay  to  your 
necessities." 

"In  other  words,"  interrupted  her  husband,  "five  dollars  is 
our  lowest  rate,  and  if  you  are  not  able  to  pay  that  amount,  you 
must  make  way  for  those  who  can.  We  do  no  business  for 
charity." 

Such  brutal  business  bluntness  as  this  turned  Don  into  an 
icicle  so  far  as  further  confidences  were  concerned,  and  he  left 
the  house  without  a  word.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  had 
contracted  to  board  with  Widow  Williams,  on  the  same  square, 
for  two  dollars  a  week.  His  accommodations  included  an 
attic  room  and  two  meals  a  day. 

"When  it  is  more  convenient  for  me,  I  will  take  dinner, 
also,"  he  said,  while  making  his  terms.  But  by  a  harmless 
prevarication  he  concealed  his  intention  of  going  without  his 
dinner  until  such  times  as  his  finances  would  allow  of  his 
engaging  full  board,  and  he  did  it  with  such  an  air  'of  genuine 
independence  that  the  widow  had  no  suspicion  of  the  truth. 

(50) 


•J  ..'/f'vyjiBWiJ'j  >■.■»  ■  ";j''.'^fstf"" 


T»- 


■im  WJ!  'HP  V  '  li.>-  '«l'>.'-'  "■ 


'PWJW 


:  neces- 
itnploy- 
st  thing 
wer  rate 
.  smaller 

are  get- 
to   your 

lollars  is 
>unt,  you 
iness  for 

t  into  an 
d  he  left 
he  had 
square, 
uded  an 

dinner, 
larmless 
lout  his 
V  of  his 
genuine 
ruth. 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


61 


Shouldering  his  trunk  with  more  of  triumph  than  of  humil- 
iation, he  crossed  the  Square  and  mounted  to  his  attic.  Nor 
did  the  limitations  of  his  quarters  diminish  from  the  elasticity 
of  his  spirits;  he  had  taken  the  bull  by  the  horns  and  consid- 
ered himself  master  of  the  situation,  such  as  it  was.  The 
Wellington  of  Waterloo  could  not  have  experienced  any 
higher  satisfaction. 

The  attic  had  but  one  window  which  commanded  a  lone- 
some view  of  a  wilderness  of  monotonous  slate  roofs  and  chim- 
neys. The  room  was  barely  high  enough  for  him  to  stand 
upright  in,  and  the  furnishings  consisted  of  a  single  bed,  a 
wash-stand,  a  lone  wooden  chair,  and  a  faded  piece  of  carpet 
placed  in  front  of  the  bed. 

Being  neat  and  scrupulously  clean  himself,  he  was  glad  to 
notice  that,  although  the  paint  of  the  room  was  battered  and 
worn,  the  bed  and  the  floor  were  neat  and  clean. 

"Well,"  he  said,  after  surveying  his  surroundings,  "I  am 
nearer  Heaven  than  I  have  ever  been  before;  that's  one  satis- 
faction. I'll  just  imagine  that  I  am  a  crow  swinging  in  the  top 
of  a  Nova  Scotian  pine.  The  next  thing  in  order  is  for  me  to 
get  something  to  do,  so  that  I  can  put  myself  in  the  way  of 
moving  a  little  lower  down  in  the  direction  <  >f  a  room  that  has 
four  good  square  walls.  That  low  place  under  the  eave  looks 
as  if  it  were  an  invitation  to  mice,  and,  possibly,  to  rats.  And 
now  I  wonder  what  sort  of  people  I  have  fallen  among  this 
time." 

His  curiosity  was  soon  to  be  satisfied.  Mrs.  Williams  was 
the  relict  of  a  sea  captain,  who  lost  his  life  upon  the  coast  of 
Madagascar.  Although  he  had  been  dead  several  years-,  she 
was  still  wearing  mourning.  She  owned,  the  house  in  which 
she  lived,  and  was  trying  to  retain  it  by  keeping  boarders  on  a 
small  scale.    She  was  tall  and  thin,  with  a  pale  face  that  bore 


.» 
^ 


"Ul 


62 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


marks  of  struggle  and  anxiety,  which,  however,  did  not  efface 
the  signs  of  refinement  and  sweetness  which  seemed  to  dom- 
inate her  features  and  her  manners. 

After  Don  had  taken  possession  of  his  attic,  he  went  down 
to  the  sitting  room,  where  Mrs.  Williams  introduced  him  to 
her  only  daughter,  Leonora,  a  rather  petite,  pretty  brunette  of 
eleven  years. 

"I  hope  you  will  be  good  friends,"  said  the  widow  to  Don, 
"though  I  must  forewarn  you  that  she  is  an  incorrigible  bunch 
of  mischief.  Besides  her,  I  have  a  son  who  is  about  your  age, 
as  I  should  judge — an  only  son  between  whom  and  you  there 
is  a  very  striking  resemblance.  Bert  is  rather  old-seeming 
for  one  so  young,  but  for  that  very  reason  he  is  a  great  help 
and  comfort  to  me.  He'll  be  glad  when  he  learns  that  I  have 
taken  a  boy-boarder,  though  possibly,  he  may  undertake  to 
oversee  you  as  he  tries  to  oversee  Nora,  here." 

"He's  an  awful  boy,  and  will  wind  you  around  his  finger 
like  a  piece  of  thread  unless  you  are  as  spunky  as  I  am,"  Nora 
volunteered  to  say,  while  her  eyes  showed  that  she  was  indulg- 
ing in  a  bit  of  precocious  slander  against  her  brother,  just  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  awful  boys,"  replied  Don,  solemnly; 
"and  I  suppose  it's  because  I  am  such  an  awful  boy  myself." 

Nora  looked  at  him  keenly,  and  seeing  the  latent  mischief 
in  his  eyes,  broke  into  a  ripple  of  musical  laughter.  "I  think 
you  will  do,"  she  remarked  with  candid  indefiniteness.  "Bert 
will  find  his  mate  when  he  comes  home  to-night  and  begins  to 
get  acquainted  with  you." 

"Do  you  think  that  there  will  be  a  fipfht?"  asked  Don,  with 
comic  seriousness. 

"Yes;  just  such  a  one  as  we  are  having." 

"Then  no  harm  will  come  to  either  of  us;  for  I  am  sure 


■■ 


V'^y,^g?'^ja.'«''f  ..'W'gigj.'iiH^y i^y  ■■■■^r^i;' 


'^Rg!^' 


TJ^-^Wf^l 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


68 


t  efface 
o  dom- 

it  down 

him  to 

nette  of 

to  Don, 
e  bunch 
}ur  age, 
)u  there 
seeming 
eat  help 
t  I  have 
rtake  to 

is  finger 

I,"  Nora 

indulg- 

just  for 

)lemnly; 
myself." 
mischief 
I  think 
"Bert 
egins  to 

on,  with 


am  sure 


that  you  are  treating  me  very  kindly,  and  that,  of  course  makes 
me  feel  friendly  toward  you. 

The  mother  seemed  to  enjoy  the  juvenile  blade-testing  that 
was  going  on  in  her  presence.  It  was  plain  that  she  took  a 
motherly  pride  in  her  children,  and  was  not  given  to  drawing 
the  string  of  the  youthful  bow  too  tightly.  It  was  also  evident 
that  Don's  self  possession  and  general  manner  gave  her  a  good 
impression  of  him.  This  impression  was  deepened  when  he 
voluntarily  gave  a  short  account  of  himself — how  he  came  to 
be  in  the  city,  and  how  he  happened  to  make  application  to 
her  for  boarding.  Nora  listened  to  him  seriously,  as  he  told 
his  brief  story,  and  once  or  twice  almost  cried  as  he  told  of  his 
disappointments  and  perplexities. 

On  going  back  to  his  attic,  Don  congratulated  himself 
upon  being  in  a  house  that  had  two  young  people  in  it,  and 
especially  upon  having  a  landlady  who  appeared  to  possess  a 
soul.  While  he  was  leaning  with  both  arnjs  upon  the  window- 
sill,  and  with  his  face  turned  pathetically  up  to  the  blue  sky — 
for  he  was  thinking  of  home->-there  was  a  sharp  rap  at  the 
door. 

On  opening  the  door  he  stood  face  to  face  with  one  who, 
in  size,  age,  complexion,  features  and  entire  appearance,  wa" 
the  very  picture  of  himself.  But  for  the  more  stylish  clothing 
he  would  have  thought  that  he  was  seeing  himself  in  a  mirror. 
He  recalled  Mrs.  Williams'  remark,  but  was  scarcely  prepared 
to  look  upon  his  double. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  visitor,  "I  am  Bert  Williams. 
My  mother  has  just  told  me  about  you,  and  Nora  gave  such  a 
rosy  account  of  you,  and  both  said  we  looked  so  much  alike, 
I  came  up  without  ceremony  to  tell  you  that  I  am  glad  that 
there  is  another  boy  in  the  house." 

"Thank  you,"  Don  responded  cordially;  "come  in  and  take 


•K^.-J-'^isi*?'? 


^^ 


: 


54 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


a  seat,"  and  he  handed  to  him  the  lone  chair  with  such  precise 
politeness,  and  withal  with  such  a  gleam  of  unmistakable 
humor  that  Bert  laughed  outright.  His  amusement  was 
increased  when  Don,  taking  his  seat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
added,  "please  excuse  me  for  occupying  the  sofa." 

Bert  thought  to  himself:  "It  is  as  Nora  says,  'This  coun- 
try chap  is  nobody's  fool.' "  Then  giving  way  to  a  sudden 
apologetic  impulse  he  said:  "It  may  give  you  some  satisfac- 
tion to  know  that  I  am  an  attic  boy  myself — I  occupy  the  one 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house ;  for  the  fact  is,  that  in  order  to 
keep  our  heads  above  water  we  are  compelled  to  give  the  best 
rooms  in  the  house  to  the  boarders  who  can  pay  for  them." 

"I  am  glad  to  have  you  for  a  neighbor,"  Don  replied  sin- 
cerely, "A  pair  of  attic  boys  ought  to  get  along  together 
nicely.  I'd  rather  be  a  boy  in  an  attic  than  an  old  man  in  a 
palace." 

"So  would  I ;  but  I'd  hate  to  live  in  an  attic  till  I  became 
an  old  man.  Old  people  ought  to  have  the  best  that  goes. 
There's  mother,  for  instance — if  I  thought  that  she  would  have 
to  live  in  my  attic  when  she  got  old— -or  in  a  place  that  was  no 
better  than  that,  I'd  do  something  desperate  to  prevent  it." 

At  this  moment  the  supper-bell  rang  and  the  two  went 
down  together  feeling  as  if  they  had  known  each  other  for 
years.  Mrs.  William  and  Nora  exchanged  glances  of  satisfac- 
tion when  they  observed  how  respectfully  attentive  Bert  was  to 
the  newcomer.  The  boarders — seven  men  and  four  women — 
all  of  the  commonest  class — ^took  little  notice  of  the  stranger. 
Their  own  incessant  struggle  for  existence  and  for  the  most 
ordinary  necessities  of  life  made  them  comparatively  indiffer- 
ent to  the  existence  of  others.  They  were  moving  along  on 
that  dead  level  where  people  seldom  become  very  bad  or  very 
good,  and  where  they  are  content — after  a  sort — ^if  they  can 
manage  to  make  both  ends  meet. 


f*JU«f»iJF  5" 


precise 
itakable 
!nt  was 
the  bed, 

is  coun- 
sudden 
satisfac- 
the  one 
Drder  to 
the  best 
em. 

lied  sin- 
ogether 
lan  in  a 

became 

It  goes. 

lid  have 

was  no 

it." 

o  went 
ler  for 
atisfac- 
was  to 
)men — 
ranger. 
le  most 
ndiffer- 
ong  on 
or  very 
ley  can 


nwsr?^ 


'  »-/'7-"y"^'«— «-»^7 


^T'*7*'^ir'^**^r*^''^  ^^TT'" 


r '  ^•^rr'-^r  ^  rr^j^ 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


66 


After  tea  Bert  invited  Don  into  what  he  called  his  hole 
under  the  roof.  It  was  very  much  like  Don's  attic  except  that 
it  had  two  windows  which  looked  down  upon  the  Square  and 
over  the  pavement  to  the  Mariner's  House  opposite.  There 
were  two  chairs  in  the  room,  which,  upon  the  whole,  was  fur- 
nished slightly  better  than  Don's  quarters.  But  what  attracted 
Don's  attention  more  than  anything  else  was  a  little  library  of 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  books,  that  appeared  to  be  nicely 
bound,  and  to  be  made  up  of  authors  of  national  and  general 
fame. 

Seeing  that  his  visitor  was  interested  in  the  books,  Bert 
said:  "They  didn't  cost  me  a  cent,  and  they  are  a  queer  lot. 
I  am  a  sprt  of  boy  of  all  work  in  Ticknor  and  Field's  Old 
Comer  Book  Store,  up  on  Washington  street.  It's  the  fun- 
niest old  shanty  you  ever  saw.  They  say  it  was  built  when 
the  cows  went  to  pasture  up  in  that  part  of  the  city — in  the 
times  when  the  Puritans  talked  religion  through  their  noses 
all  day  and  went  about  looking  like  scarecrows.  That  was 
before  they  had  the  Boston  Tea  Party  we  have  heard  so  much 
about.  Well,  I  get  only  five  dollars  a  week,  and,  of  course, 
can't  afford  to  buy  books.  But  ever>  book  that  gets  bound 
wrong  end  foremost — ^with  the  beginning  in  the  middle,  or  the 
end  at  the  beginning,  or  boltom-side  up,  or  mixed  up  generally 
— ^as  if  the  binders  or  the  printers  had  been  on  a  big  drunk — 
every  book  of  this  kind  is  given  to  me.  Those  that  I  want  to 
read  I  can  easily  piece  together  enough  to  get  the  hang  of 
them  and  those  I  find  too  dull  to  read,  I  let  stand  on  their 
heads  to  their  hearts*  content.  So  it  doesn't  matter  whether 
the  books  are  bound  right  or  wrong,  so  long  as  I  can  manage 
to  get  out  of  them  all  that  I  care  to  get. 

"That  Old  Comer  Bookstore,  by  the  way,  has  more  big 
literary  customers  and  visitors  than  any  other  store  in  the 


-V^.  1    J:i-^.,T«    -A-ltJ'^"!^,-'' 


«wp"f  """ii.'.iwr^ 


r'mii'-^^r^'^^y^l^f  .ppn^i'Ugy^  *' 


66 


▲IR    CASTLE    DON 


United  States;  and  they  come  there  so  often  that  they  talk  to 
me  as  if  I  were  the  son  of  every  one  of  them.  These  books," 
pointing  to  a  number  that  stood  by  themselves,  "were  given 
to  me  by  the  persons  who  wrote  them. 

"Mr.  Lowell  made  me  a  present  of  his  Bigelow  Papers — 
and  there  are  piles  and  piles  of  fun  in  them.  Doctor  Holmes 
gave  me  that  Breakfast  Table  book,  and  his  Wonderful  One 
Hoss  Shay  is  the  greatest  rib-tickler  I  ever  got  hold  of.  Mr. 
Thoreau,  though  he  is  such  a  farmer-like  oddity,  gave  me  that 
Life  in  the  Woods.  I  get  lost  in  that  sometimes,  it  carries  me 
so  far  away  from  the  city.  Longfellow  and  Whittier  gave  me 
those  volumes  of  poems,  and  when  I  am  a  head  taller  I  shall 
probably  prize  them,  even  more  than  I  do  now.  That  tall 
Emerson  and  little  Whipple  gave  me  their  Essays,  but  they 
are  like  boxes  of  raisins,  you  can't  eat  much  of  them  at  one 
time.  Big  Bayard  Taylor  gave  me  the  Travels,  and  you  can 
see  for  yourself  that  they  have  been  pretty  well  thumbed. 
Grace  Greenwood  and  John  G.  Saxe  gfave  me  that  volume  of 
funny  poems,  and  that  Haps  and  Mishaps — and  they  are  down- 
right good,  too.  And  the  rest,  that  you  see  there  by  them- 
selves, were  also  given  to  me  by  the  persons  who  wrote  them 
— I've  got  all  their  autographs  in  the  books  and  when  I  am 
old  enough,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  mighty  proud  of  them. 

It  is  big  fun  to  be  in  a  store  where  such  chaps  meet  almost 
every  week.  If  you  keep  your  ears  open,  you  hear  some  funny 
things,  for  they  joke  one  another  like  a  lot  of  boys  just  out  of 
school — ^but  you  have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  their  fine 
points,  for  it  is  as  easy  to  lose  them  as  it  is  to  lose  a  fine 
needle."  Bert  ran  on  not  boastfully,  but  by  way  of  entertain- 
ing his  visitor,  as  he  tried  to  explain. 

Don  looked  at  the  boy  with  growing  admiration  and 
expressed  his  opinion  by  saying:    "Well,  if  you  do  live  in  an 


-m 


flflPIT"' 


-.its;-  .  -^TfP  f'}':^f*'\*'9^-m»v}l^iimfkm.,'i%  •»T"t.',y;;»v.>.  .■'•  ^«f^'-^%j" 


-vmifr 


'  " '^ .'  V  "!   'I  IF-'-U ( 'J!^ 


STrffK) 


Ain    OASTLB    DON 


67 


talk  to 
books," 
e  given 

apers — 
Elolmes 
'ul  One 
if.  Mr. 
me  that 
Ties  me 
^ave  me 
I  shall 
hat  tall 
lut  they 
I  at  one 
you  can 
lumbed. 
lume  of 
e  down- 
them- 
te  them 
I  am 

almost 
funny 
out  of 

eir  fine 
a  fine 

tertain- 

m  and 
in  an 


attic,  you  are  on  the  ground  floor  so  far  as  books  and  authors 
are  concerned,  and  that  ought  to  be  a  great  inspiration  to  you." 

"Inspiration  to  what?"  asked  Bert  pertinently. 

"To  reading  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

"Bert  laughed  as  he  said:  "If  you  were  in  a  grocery  store 
and  should  be  inspired  to  eat  the  candies  and  other  goodies 
your  inspiration  would  be  likely  to  get  into  trouble.  Not  so 
much  on  account  of  the  value  of  the  stuff  you  ate  as  on  account 
of  the  business  you  neglect.  Ticknor  and  Field  are  kind  old 
chaps,  but  if  you  got  to  being  too  much  inspired  among  their 
books,  they'd  bounce  you  in  a  minute.  You  are  there  to  look 
after  their  business  and  if  you  didn't  attend  to  it,  they'd  make 
it  their  business  to  know  the  reason  why,  and  that  mighty 
quick,  too.  They  are  up  there  on  that  old  corner  to  make 
money;  and  even  if  their  writers  and  the  big  book-bugs  didn't 
make  dollars  and  cents  for  them  they'd  get  swept  out  of  the 
way  like  so  much  old  paper  rubbish.  That's  the  way  the  world 
wags  in  the  city,  and  I  guess  it  wags  the  same  way  in  the 
country.  It's  got  so  here  that  Onless  a  preacher  fills  his  pews 
and  draws  in  holy  money,  his  religion  goes  for  nothing. 
People  are  measured  by  what  you  can  squeeze  out  of  them  and 
not  by  what  you  can  squeeze  into  them." 

Don  began  to  see  that  this  city  boy  was  a  good  deal  sharper 
than  himself;  the  rush  of  life  and  the  pressure  of  competition 
had  forced  him  to  sink  his  foundations  down  to  hardpan. 
There  wasn't  much  balloon  or  cloud  stuff  in  his  make-up.  He 
said  to  him :  "You  talk  as  if  you  were  fifty  years  old.  Do  all 
Boston  boys  talk  that  way?" 

"You  have  to  be  pretty  old  to  get  along  here;  but  I'll  admit 
that  there  are  lunies  here  as  well  as  elsewhere  who  do  nothing 
but  sail  among  the  clouds." 

Don  thought  of  Peter  Piper,  and  he  told  Bert  about  him, 


I 


»jfMMI» 


66 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


and  quoted  some  of  his  sayings,  winding  up,  however,  with  the 
information  that  the  old  fellow  was,  in  spite  of  his  worldly 
wisdom,  as  poor  as  some  of  the*people  he  saw  on  the  streets 
of  Boston. 

"He  was  so  long  getting  hold  of  his  wisdom  that  it  prob- 
ably came  too  late  to  do  him  any  good  except  in  the  way  of 
giving  it  to  others,"  said  Bert,  half  shutting  one  eye  before  he 
ventured  to  hint  at  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  useless 
knowledge  and  experience.  "And  the  trouble  with  most  of 
us  youngsters  is,  we  are  unwilling  to  profit  by  others'  experi- 
ences. We  flounder  into  the  stream  at  the  risk  of  drowning 
when  we  might  go  safely  and  dry  shod  over  the  bridge  that's 
been  built  for  our  benefit.  Next  to  the  old  fool  who  never 
profits  by  experience  is  the  young  fool  who  never  profits  by 
advice." 

The  boys  spent  the  evening  together,  and  when  Don  rose 
to  go  to  his  own  attic,  Bert,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder 
said,  earnestly:  "I  like  you,  Don  Donalds.  When  you  want 
any  of  my  books  or  anything  else  I  have  got,  come  in  and  help 
yourself.  I  think  that  you  have  been  a  reader.  If  you  happen 
to  get  hold  of  any  of  the  upside-down,  or  middle-at-the-begin- 
ning  fellows,  it  will  be  good  fun  for  you  to  guesu  how  they 
ought  to  go.  If  you  don't  want  to  take  the  trouble  of  hunting 
up  the  connections,  you  can  read  right  straight  along,  and  in 
that  way  you  will  hit  more  funny  things  than  you  can  imagine. 
If  you  want  to  see  the  fun  that's  going  on  in  the  square,  there's 
a  window  for  each  of  us;  come  in  whenever  you  want  to  look 
out." 

When  Don  went  back  to  his  attic  he  saw  something  that 
was  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  him.  The  fragment  of  faded 
carpet  had  been  removed  and  a  much  larger  and  brighter  piece 
substituted  for  it.     In  the  middle  of  the  carpet  stood  a  neat 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


M 


little  table  with  places  in  it  for  odds  and  ends.  The  lighted 
lamp  stood  in  the  center  of  a  pretty  snow-white  mat,  and  by 
the  side  of  the  table  stood  a  very  comfortable  rocking-chair 
with  a  clean  tidy  fastened  by  new  blue  ribbons.  On  one  of  the 
upright  walls  were  two  framed  prints  which  pleased  Don  as 
much  as  anything.  He  was  so  charmed  with  the  changes 
wrought  by  these  additions,  that  he  went  back  to  Eert,  and 
begged  him  to  return  his  visit  forthwith. 

Smiling,  yet  embarrassed,  Bert  said  in  reply  to  Don's 
expressions  of  pleasure:  "Mother,  Nora  and  I  put  our  heads 
together  after  tea  to  see  what  we  could  find  to  add  to  your 
furniture  and  fixings.  TIrtc  was  little  we  could  get,  but  the 
place  looks  better  than  it  did  before.  One  reason  why  I  kept 
talking  to  you  at  the  rate  I  did  while  you  were  in  my  room, 
was  to  give  mother  and  Nora  a  chance  to  finish  what  they  were 
doing  here.  Now,  if  you  will  take  some  of  my  books  and 
place  them  upon  your  table,  you  can  imagine  yourself  a  garret 
genius  or  anything  else  you  please." 

"I  am  very  thankful  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken,"  Don 
said  gratefully,  "but  I  hope  that  you  have  not  put  yourselves 
out  in  putting  these  extras  in  here.  When  the  Coverts  turned 
me  out  this  morning,  I  began  to  think  that  the  Boston  steeples 
had  missed  their  mission,  but  now  that  you  have  taken  me  in 
and  conspired  so  thoughtfully  for  my  comfort,  I  shall  think 
better  of  the  steeples." 

"Don't  trust  too  much  in  steeples,"  Bert  replied,  somewhat 
bitterly,  "they  point  themselves  so  high  that  they  miss  the 
most  of  what  is  really  going  on  in  the  world.  I  sometimes 
think  that  they  have  as  little  influence  over  things  below  as 
they  do  over  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  above.  If  you've  got 
money,  the  church  is  a  good  place  to  get  into;  if  you  haven't, 
it's  a  capital  place  to  keep  out  of.     My  mother  is  a  good 


ir  'vfv 


eo 


Ain    OASTLR    DON 


woman,  if  there  ever  was  one,  aid  she  is  a  member  of  the 
church,  hut  as  she  is  poor,  it's  jireciotis  little  notice  she  gets 
from  the  steeples.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  speak  in  this  way. 
It's  more  than  likely  that  I  am  soured  on  the  churches,  and 
when  one  sours  on  anything,  he's  as  unreasonable  as  a  balky 
horse." 

"Seeing  that  your  mother  is  a  church-woman,  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  think  well  of  the  steeples;  if  we  cannot  depend  upon 
them,  what  can  we  depend  on?" 


'.■■'••■"*■ 


I 
r 
a 
b 
c 
s 
a 


■■■■■■EniMPii 


*} 


r  of  the 
she  gets 
his  way. 
hes,  and 
a  balky 

hall  con- 
nd  upon 


CHAPTER   VI. 


LOOKINCi   POR   A  SITUATION. 

"You  will  find  this  hunting  for  a  situation  a  pretty  tough 
business,"  said  Ucrt  to  Don,  the  next  morning,  when  the  latter 
started  with  Iiim  on  the  way  to  the  Old  Book  Store,  intending 
from  that  point  to  begin  his  explorations  for  employment.  "I 
am  I3oston  born  and  have  lived  here  all  my  days,  but  I  never 
knew  what  a  nobody  I  was  until  I  began  to  hunt  for  work  and 
a  chance  to  live.  In  the  first  place,  everybody  wants  you  to 
have  a  character  that  is  as  long  as  the  Ten  Commandments, 
and  juiit  as  plainly  written  by  some  Moses,  or  some  one  equal 
to  him.  Then,  in  addition,  you  must  be  sharp  enough  to  take 
all  the  advantage  you  can,  and  have  no  one  take  advantage  of 
you.  Besides,  they'll  require  that  you  should  reside  with  your 
parents  or  some  relatives  who  will  keep  a  constant  sharp-stick 
watch  over  you  every  hour  that  you  are  not  on  duty.  Most  of 
them  want  you  to  work  for  nothing  during  the  first  six  months, 
or  the  first  year.  When  they  begin  to  pay  you  anything,  the 
amount  is  so  small  it  almost  needs  a  microscope  to  find  it. 
If  you  go  into  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  store,  you  must  have 
both  the  manners  and  the  dress  of  a  young  gentleman,  and 
must  act  as  old  and  be  as  patient  as  an  old  gentleman  of  fifty, 
and  yet  be  ready  to  be  pulled  and  hauled  about  as  if  you  were 
born  a  slave.  You  can't  count  on  sympathy  nor  anything  else 
of  that  sort.  I  thought  I  had  a  trump  card  when  I  first 
started  out,  and  told  people  that  my  mother  was  a  poor  widow, 
and  that  I  was  an  only  son  who  was  trying  to  help  her  along; 

(6i) 


mm 


wmsmw^' 


62 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


it  didn't  count  any  more  than  so  much  blank  pasteboard.  Of 
course  there  are  exceptions,  otherwise  I  should  not  have  had 
any  show  at  all.  After  awhile  I  happened  to  hit  my  present 
employers,  and  they  have  done  the  square  thing  for  me  right 
along,  though  they  have  made  me  toe  the  mark  for  all  I  was 
worth." 

"You  are  giving  me  a  pretty  black  picture,"  said  Don,  with 
a  feeling  of  dismay. 

"It's  black  enough,  but  not  very  pretty,"  Bert  replied 
laughingly.  "It  is  better  to  know  the  truth  from  the  begin- 
ning, for  most  of  us  boys  have  such  big  expectations  that  it 
is  best  to  give  them  a  bit  of  a  tumble  from  the  start.  We  can 
then  go  about  our  business  as  if  we  were  on  a  hunt  through 
Africa,  and  when  the  pull  comes,  instead  of  whining  like 
babies,  we  can  pull  all  the  harder.  You  stand  as  good  a  chance 
to  stumble  upon  a  decent  place  as  I  did.  Of  course  you  have 
got  certificates  of  character  with  you,  signed  by  your  minister 
and  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  the  doctor  and  the  rest  of  the 
big  bugs?" 

"Not  a  certificate,"  Don  replied  blankly.  "I  never  thought 
of  such  a  thing.  I  wanted  to  come  to  Boston,  and  so  I  came 
at  the  first  opportunity." 

"You  must  be  awful  green  in  some  things!"  Bert 
exclaimed,  forcibly  and  bluntly.  "What  did  you  do  before  you 
came  here?" 

"I  taught  school." 

"Taught  school — a  youngster  like  you!  Well,  that  knocks 
me  to  pieces.  Then  you  must  kncfw  something,  and  must 
know  how  to  write  a  good  hand.  That's  two  things  that  any- 
body can  satisfy  himself  about.  People  here  are  great  en 
faces,  and  perhaps  they'll  take  your  face  for  a  certificate  of 
character,  just  as  I  did  from  the  start.    North  Square  isn't  the 


«w 


7m 


mmm 


.^^■^&i,umm&::%.i 


■■^TWr 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


68 


)oard.  Of 
t  have  had 
ny  present 
r  me  right 
r  all  I  was 

Don,  with 

ert  replied 
the  begin- 
ons  that  it 
t.  We  can 
nt  through 
lining  like 
)d  a  chance 
e  you  have 
ur  minister 
rest  of  the 

rer  thought 
so  I  came 

gs!"    Bert 
before  you 


best  place  in  the  world  to  hail  from  as  a  boarding  place,  yet 
if  anybody  goes  to  prying  into  our  family  affairs,  I  think  we 
can  stand  all  the  light  they  can  bring.  But  here  I  am,  at  my 
place  of  business.  You  can  go  up  to  the  Common  and  ramble 
around  till  about  nine  o'clock;  it  will  give  you  time  to  think 
and  to  harden  up  your  skin.  When  you  begin  your  search, 
go  at  it  with  an  iron-clad  determination.  And  if  your  heart 
takes  a  notion  to  sink,  prop  it  up  with  stiff  timber,  and  remem- 
ber that  there  are  lots  and  lots  of  boys  in  a  worse  fix  than  you 
are,  and  they  are  not  all  bad  boys,  either."  And  with  this 
queer  jumble  of  discouragement  and  encouragement,  Bert 
turned  the  key  in  the  door  and  disappeared.  Wl.^n  he  went 
home  to  his  dinner,  he  asked  Nora  if  Don  had  got  home. 

"No,"  said  Nora,"  he  hasn't  had  time  to  get  his  dinner  yet. 
He  doesn't  get  here  till  about  two  o'clock." 

A  sudden  suspicion  flashed  through  Bert's  head;  he 
believed  that  Don  went  without  his  dinner.  He  looked  his 
worry  so  plainly  that  Nora  asked  him  what  the  matter  was. 

"Oh,  nothing,  sweet,"  he  replied  quickly,  knowing  that  if 
Don  was  keeping  a  secret  it  would  be  treason  for  him  to  whis- 
per his  suspicions  to  either  Nora  or  his  mother.  But  during 
the  whole  afternoon  there  were  wrinkles  between  his  eyes — 
wrinkles  of  deep  thought. 

When  he  came  home  at  night  and  found  Don  in  the  attic, 
a  single  glance  at  his  face  revealed  the  futility  of  the  day's 
search.     Yet  Don  received  him  with  a  cordial  smile. 

"Haven't  hit  anything  yet?"  he  asked,  explicitly. 

"Nor  come  within  a  thousand  miles  of  anything,  though  I 
have  been  firing  myself  into  every  place  I  could  get  into 
decently.  In  most  of  the  places  I  got  fired  out  as  quickly  as 
I  got  in." 

"Going  at  it  again  to-morrow?" 


I-S 


mmimmsm 


...v.. 


w 


■"K-"'-?'"'  'V    "  "'  '■  ■'■''■''"i'P*  "■.t,'=^ ■;'•  "*  '•.  *'  *'?7"-' 


■  '.'"'-^■"i-'K-.'^-y*;'' 


•T?^^,^s^n5^"^1P^"'?K: 


64 


AIll    CASTLE    DON 


W- 


"Of  course!  One  has  to  learn  how  to  shoot  before  he  can 
hit  any  mark.    I'm  learning,  and  that's  one  consolation." 

"Shoulder  aches  a  bit  from  the  kick  of  the  gun,  doesn't  it?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  little  bit;  but  that's  nothing." 

"Well,  you've  got  pluck  if  you  are  a  little  green,"  said  Bert, 
beginning  to  laugh  in  response  to  the  mirth  he  saw  in  Don's 
eyes,  a  mirth  which  he  knew  was  provoked  by  the  grim  cate- 
chism to  which  he  was  subjected.  "Keep  that  sort  of  thing 
up  and  you'll  come  out  somewhere,  yet." 

"Yes;  out  at  the  elbows,  and  out  at  the  toes,"  Don  said, 
doggedly.     "And  out  of  Boston,  too,"  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"But  didn't  you  get  so  much  as  a  nibble?"  persisted  Bert. 

"Yes,  I  got  two;  but  when  they  asked  for  my  certificate  of 
character,  and  where  and  with  whom  I  lived,  my  face  wouldn't 
pass  for  a  cent,  and  so  I  passed  out  as  I  went  in." 

Bert  was  silent  and  troubled  at  this,  for  it  was  as  he  feared 
it  would  be.  "Well,"  he  said  at  length,  "there's  no  use  in 
nursing  trouble.  Shake  oflf  this  day  and  get  ready  for  another. 
And,  by  the  way,  why  can't  you  write  home  and  get  somebody 
to  fit  you  to  a  recommendation.  It  may  be  of  use  yet.  Cer- 
tificates of  character  are  of  course  puffy  things,  but  like  swim- 
ming bladders  or  cork,  they  sometimes  help  one  to  keep  on 
top  of  the  water  till  he  can  strike  out  for  himself." 

Don  said  he  would  write  and  get  a  whole  battery  of  certifi- 
cates; and  he  wrote  accordingly. 

But  the  times  were  dull,  boys  were  thick,  the  unemployed 
innumerable,  and  business  men  as  touchy  and  as  short  as  if 
applicants  were  as  pronounced  intruders  in  the  world  as  bottle- 
flies  are  in  a  domestic  establishment. 

Ten  days  passed  away,  and  although  Don  was  indefatigable 
in  his  efforts  he  was  apparently  no  nearer  success  than  the  first 
day  he  started  out  on  his  weary  round.    Most  of  the  posted 


Pippppflf!^^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


66 


>re  he  can 
ation." 
oesn't  it?" 

said  Bert, 

in  Don's 

frirn  cate- 

:  of  thing 

Don  said, 
r  a  pause. 
5ted  Bert, 
tificate  of 
wouldn't 

he  feared 
lo  use  in 
•  another, 
omebody 
et.  Cer- 
ke  swim- 
keep  on 

of  certifi- 

;mployed 
lort  as  if 
as  bottle- 

:fatigable 
I  the  first 
le  posted 


notices,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  advertisements  answered 
were  but  the  disguises  worn  by  unadulterated  meanness — ^baits 
of  men  who  were  planning  to  secure  slaves  that  would  do  their 
work  with'.^'Mt  cost. 

Every  evening  Bert  would  call  upon  Don  to  report,  and  his 
company  and  persistent  encouragements  did  much  to  keep 
Don's  spirits  up. 

One  evening  Don  began  his  usual  report  by  saying: 
"Well,  I  have  made  a  big  dash  this  afternoon." 

Bert  at  once  became  much  excited,  and  pressed  for  a  full 
explanation. 

"I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  tired  of  running 
around  this  town  like  a  beggar,  when,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Square  I  saw  a  notice  that  a  boy  was  wanted  to  ship  on  board  a 
vessel  bound  for  Japan.  I  went  in  and  after  talking  with  the 
man  who  keeps  the  place,  agreed  to  sign  the  papers 
to-morrow." 

Bert  flushed  with  excitement,  and  said  almost  angrily: 
"But  you  will  do  no  such  tiling.  That  place  is  the  beginning 
of  perdition  to  nearly  all  who  step  across  the  sill.  It  is  kept 
by  a  land-shark  which  is  the  meanest  and  the  most  cruel  of  all 
the  sharks  that  swim  the  sea  or  roam  the  land.  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  what  a  land-shark  is.  I'll  tell  you:  It  is  a  man 
who  tells  you  that  he  has  got  a  nice  fat  thing  for  you;  a  chance 
to  see  the  world  on  a  fine  ship,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  He 
.promises  to  fit  you  out  w  h  a  sea-rig  and  everything  else  you 
need,  and  to  advance  you  money  besides.  When  you  have 
signed  the  papers  and  begin  to  find  out  things,  you  wili  dis- 
cover that  for  your  rig  and  your  advance  money  he  has  shipped 
you  before  the  mast  and  taken  a  mortgage  on  your  wages 
from  the  time  you  leave  port  till  the  time  you  get  into  port 
again.    When  you  get  to  sea  you'll  be  kicked  about  by  brutes 


M 


66 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


*'5f* 


¥ 


% 
It- 


till  you  become  a  brute  yourself.  If  you  live  to  get  back  again 
you'll  be  landed  without  a  cent.  Then  they'll  take  you  to  some 
low  doggery  and  keep  at  you  till  you  are  forced  to  ship  again 
under  the  same  conditions.  And  so  they  keep  it  up  indefin- 
itely, unless  by  some  special  good  chance  you  escape  from 
their  clutches  I  know  the  scoundrel  who  wants  to  take  you 
in,  and  if  my  inother  was  not  such  a  good  woman  I'd  swear  at 
you  hot  and  heavy  for  being  deceived  by  such  a  dog-livered 
funk  as  that." 

Don  had  listened  to  the  sugary  words  of  the  land-shark, 
but  had  no  knowledge  or  intimation  of  what  lay  back  of  the 
apparently  considerate  and  friendly  oflfers  of  the  unscrupulous 
schemer,  who  intended  to  sell  him  soul  and  body.  Bert's  hot 
words  opened  his  eyes,  and  he  became  alarmed. 

"Well,"  said  he  desperately,  "I  have  passed  my  word,  and 
that  is  something  I  have  never  gone  back  on  yet." 

"Passed  it  for  what?"  Bert  exclaimed  indignantly.  "Did 
you  see  the  papers?  Did  the  fellow  give  you  any  hint  of  the 
coiiditions  of  the  bargain?  Don't  say  a  word  to  me  yet,"  he 
added,  as  he  saw  that  Don  was  about  to  speak.  "Come  with 
me  and  see  how  quickly  I'll  straighten  this  thing  out,  and  con- 
vince you  that  if  a  man  promises  to  send  you  straight  to  the 
New  Jerusalem  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should  allow  him  to 
put  a  rope  around  your  neck  that  will  drag  you  to  the  other 
place  by  express. 

Don  followed  him  across  the  Square  to  the  Mariner's 
House,  whicli  was  supported  by  a  religious  association,  and 
kept  by  a  religious  superintendent  in  the  interest  of  men  who 
followed  the  sea. 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  office,  Bert,  addressing  a  good 
looking  man.  sairl :     "Mr.  Truesdale,  I  want  you  to  go  with  us 


'Ig^lfmyvif^jrffi'vm  '"v,  "0i,i  w-  -^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


67 


•ack  again 
lu  to  some 
ihip  again 
p  indefin- 
:ape  from 
take  you 
1  swear  at 
3g-Iivered 

nd-shark, 
ck  of  the 
:rupulous 
Bert's  hot 

vord,  and 

ly.  "Did 
int  of  the 
f  yet,"  he 

me  with 
and  con- 
ht  to  the 
him  to 

le  other 

lariner's 
ion,  and 
len  who 

a  good 
with  us 


to  Lammel's  den.  He's  trying  to  lay  one  of  his  old  tricks 
on  my  friend,  Don  Donalds." 

This  intimation  was  sufficient,  con.  ig  as  it  did  from  a  lad 
with  whom  the  superintendent  was  Wv  II  acquainted,  and  he 
immediately  followed  them.  On  the  way  Bert  informed  him 
of  what  had  taken  place  between  Don  and  the  land-shark,  and 
also  of  what  Don  had  said  about  keeping  his  word.  When 
they  filtered  the  den,  Lammels  quailed.  Nor  was  he  much 
assured  when  the  superintendent  said: 

"You  have  been  making  one  of  your  bargains  with  this 
boy,"  pointing  to  Don.     "Let  me  have  the  papers,  please." 

Lammels  knew  the  extent  of  Truesdale's  authority,  and 
passed  the  papers  to  the  superintendent  who,  notwithstanding 
the  evil  scowls  of  the  schemer,  read  them  to  Don  from  begin- 
ning to  end. 

"When  you  said  that  you  would  sign  the  shipping  papers 
to-morrow,  did  you  mean  that  you  would  sign  such  papers  as 
these?"  asked  the  superintendent,  turning  to  Don. 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  emphatic  answer.  "He  said  he  would 
fill  in  the  blanks  and  have  the  papers  ready  for  me  to  sign  in 
the  morning." 

"But  he  would  have  gotten  your  signature  without  reading 
to  you  the  terms  of  the  contract.  Are  you  willing  to  sign  nov» 
that  you  know  what  the  conditions  are?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Don,  more  emphatically  than  before. 

"Lammels,  you  have  been  trying  to  inveigle  a  minor  into 
your  clutches;  I'll  keep  these  papers  and  report  you  to  the 
police,"  and  the  superintendent  put  the  papers  into  his  pocket, 
and  turned  to  leave.  He  was,  however,  detained  by  the  piti- 
ful whining  of  the  land-shark,  who  begged  hard  for  mercy. 

Don  declared  that  he  himself  was  partly  to  blame  for  not 
looking  more  closely  into  the  terms  of  the  contract,  and  in 


4 

4 


-.^.;.:mA   iw  turn-  i-i 


68  AIR    0A8TLB    DON 

case  of  prosecution  he  should  be  obliged  to  testify  to  that 
effect. 

Turning  to  Lammels,  the  superintendent  said,  decidedly 
and  severely :  "I'll  keep  the  papers,  but  if  you  are  not  arrested 
it  will  be  owing  to  the  good  graces  of  your  interided  victim. 
I  am  tired  of  your  villainies,  and  if  I  can  get  a  good  square  case 
against  you  I'll  send  you  to  the  penitentiary  without  mercy; 
that  is  where  you  and  all  your  tribe  belong." 

"Now,  my  lad,"  said  Truesdale,  while  they  were  walking 
across  the  Square,  "before  you  make  any  more  bargains  with 
strangers,  come  to  me  and  let  me  know  what  you  are  about. 
The  city  is  full  of  schemers,  some  of  whom  are  apparently 
respectable  people,  but  who  for  the  sake  of  making  a  few  dol- 
lars would  stop  at  nothing.  The  Mariners'  Home  is  open  to 
you  at  any  time ;  we  have  an  excellent  reading  room  over  there, 
and  you  are  welcome  to  the  use  of  it  at  all  times.  I  am  glad 
that  you  have  Bert  Williams  for  a  companion ;  he's  got  an  old 
head  on  his  young  shoulders,  and  it  will  be  worth  your  while 
to  listen  to  what  he  says. 

When  the  boys  had  reached  the  attic  region  again,  and 
while  they  were  sitting  in  Bert's  room,  he  said,  referring  to 
their  former  conversation  about  church  steeples:  "Well,  Don, 
I'll  candidly  confess  that  the  steeple  punched  a  hole  through 
that  rascality  in  a  very  neat  way.  But  for  that  Mariners' 
Home  many  a  poor  fellow  would  be  ruined  in  less  than  no 
time." 

"Yes,  the  steeple  did  the  punching,  but  you  did  the  prompt- 
ing," Don  replied,  "and  I  begin  to  realize  that  you  have  saved 
me  from  making  a  fatal  mistake.  I'll  confess  that  I  am  as 
green  a  country  punpkin  as  ever  set  foot  in  a  city;  but  if  I  am 
with  you  much  longer  I  think  that  I  shall  begin  to  show  some 
other  colors." 


jrit-.i<ii«i..i 


r^i^-:, 


-SciiS*' 


ff^giJiP!i^#-^^^^-^.'y^;*'*^f^^ 


wm 


ify  to  that 

decidedly 
ot  arrested 
led  victim, 
quare  case 
mt  mercy; 

'e  walking 
grains  with 
are  about, 
apparently 
a  few  dol- 
ls open  to 
jver  there, 
I  am  glad 
g:ot  an  old 
rour  while 

gain,  and 
ferring  to 
^ell,  Don, 

through 
Mariners* 

than  no 

prompt- 
ive  saved 

I  am  as 
It  if  I  am 
ow  some 


AIR    OASTLB    DON     >  QQ 

Bert  laughed  in  a  shame-faced  way,  yet  used  Don's  gener- 
ous compliment  as  an  excuse  for  anotherattack,  saying,  without 
any  beating  of  the  bush :  "Now  look  here,  Don,  I  have  got 
another  bone  to  pick  with  you.  That  dinner  business  is  a 
dead  fake.  You  go  without  your  dinner.  And  you  are  green 
enough  to  think  that  you  have  covered  up  the  deception  by 
saying  tfiat  when  it  ij  more  con-ve-ni-ent  for  you,  you  will 
take  your  dinner  with  us.  You  might  have  known  that  that 
dodge  was  too  thin  for  anything,  and  that  I  would  find  you 
out." 

"How  did  you  find  it  out?"  asked  Don,  giving  himself 
away  in  the  confusion  produced  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
attack. 

"By  just  guessing  at  it  till  I  knew  it  was  so,"  Bert  replied 
rather  indefinitely,  and  with  some  embarrassment,  for  he  had 
not  failed  to  observe  that  there  was  that  in  Don's  manner  that 
warned  him  that  he  wa&  treading  upon  very  delicate  ground. 

"Have  you  said  anything  to  your  mother  or  Nora  about 
this?'*  was  the  next  somewhat  portentous  question. 

"Of  course  not,"  Bert  said  in  a  hurry.  "What  you  kept  as 
a  secret  from  me,  I  felt  in  honor  bound  to  keep  secret  from 
them.  But  the  bare  thought  of  you  going  hollow  all  through 
the  middle  of  the  day  has  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  my  appe- 
tite time  and  time  again.  And  when  I  have  left  my  dinner 
almost  untouched,  worrying  about  you,  mother  and  Nora 
would  dig  questions  into  me  so  deeply  and  rapidly  I  was  com- 
pelled to  burrow  like  a  groundhog  in  order  to  keep  out  of 
their  reach." 

Much  relieved  to  find  that  his  affairs  were  not  being  dis- 
cussed by  the  little  family,  and  grateful  to  Bert  for  his  manly 
reserve,  Don  said:  "Your  honor  and  sympathy  and  generos- 
ity are  worthy  of  one  of  Sir  W.  Uer  Scott's  knights,  and  I  can 


'■m 


-       ^^^^j^jfji-rdi  . 


».«^ 


"r',.7T' ■.!»,•■ 


~rr^ 


70 


AIR    0A8TLQ    DON 


>> 


talk  with  you  freely.  I'm  too  poor  to  pay  three  dollars — the 
full  rate  for  an  attic  boarder,  so  I  cut  my  garment  according 
to  my  cloth.  I  do  not  suffer,  and  therefore  I  don't  want  to  be 
pitied.  It  isn't  a  bad  plan,  this  going  without  one  meal  a  day; 
it  makes  you  value  the  other  two  all  the  more.  Continue  to  be 
a  good  fellow  by  keeping  silent  about  my  dinner. 

"But  look  here,  Don  Donalds;"  this  pride  of  yours  may  be 
a  good  thing  to  have,  and  it  may  grow  on  the  bushes  where 
you  have  lived,  yet  I  will  tell  you  this:  Mother  is  no  fool;  she 
can  guess  as  well  as  I.  I  am  sure  that  she  is  already  bothering 
herself  about  this  dinner  affair.  Nora  is  as  much  of  a  Yankee 
as  her  mother,  and  she  is  continually  asking  where  you  go  to 
dine.  She  is  such  a  kitten-hearted  thing  that  she  will  almost 
go  to  pieces  if  she  finds  that  you  are  in  the  habit  of  carrying 
an  empty  stomach  one-third  of  the  time." 

Don  was  silent  at  this  new  aspect  of  the  case.  He  saw  that 
his  expedient  was  too  transparent  to  be  concealed.  Gathering 
boldness  from  his  silence,  Bert  said:  "Let  us  split  the  differ- 
ence and  call  it  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  week,  and  then  you  can 
eat  your  dinner  like  a  man  and  feel  as  proud  as  you  please." 

"It's  no  use,  Bert,"  Don  exclaimed,  suddenly  becoming 
confidential;  "my  pocket-book  is  far  gone  with  consumption 
already;  and  I  must  stick  to  my  plan  even  though  you  pro- 
claim it  from  the  cellar  to  the  house-top." 

"Well,  here's  my  ul-ti-ma-tum ;  I  believe  that's  what  they 
call  it,  and  if  you  don't  comply  with  it  I'll  sulk  at  you  with 
forty-horse  power  all  the  rest  of  the  time  you  are  here.  I 
spend  more  than  fifty  cents  a  week  for  mere  nothing;^.  I'll 
save  that  money  and  bank  it  in  you.  You'll  take  it  every  Sat- 
urday night  and  nobody  shall  know  anything  about  it.  That 
will  make  up  for  your  whole  board.  Of  course,  it  will  be  a 
loan,  to  be  paid  back  when  you  get  ready.     If  you  run  entirely 


'^'*,: 


'^t.MM»U.<l*B^.'.«»t«1t'JW 


the 

kding 

to  be 

day; 

to  be 


vfmw^iwm?^^^ij^-  '■"'"".w',.ii..4  ■ 


^piif 


J-T" 


!P«« 


'■:!W^f:w7^"n.f^ 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


¥^m 


71 


short,  you  shall  stay  with  us  till  there's  a  change  in  your 
circumstances.  Do  you  consent?  You  must  take  the  fifty 
cents,  or  the  fifty  sulks— one  or  the  other." 

Don  began  to  laugh ;  and  the  more  he  thought,  the  merrier 
he  became.  He  recalled  what  Nora  had  said  about  her  brother 
and  thinking  of  her  was  like  looking  at  the  sun  through  a  rift 
in  the  clouds.  "When  I  first  came  here,"  he  said,  "Nora  told 
me  that  you  were  an  awful  boy,  and  that  you  would  wind  me 
about  your  finger  like  a  piece  of  thread.  I  begin  to  under- 
stand what  she  meant;  you  are  an  awful  fellow,  in  your  way. 
I  thankfully  accept  your  oflfer,  but — " 

"No  matter  about  the  buts,"  Bert  interrupted  quickly.  "I 
knew  you  had  lots  of  common  sense  beneath  your  piles  of 
pride,  and  that  I  should  find  it  if  I  kept  on  digging  for  it.  If 
you  had  not  accepted  my  offer,  I  think  I  should  have  taken 
advantage  of  our  looking  so  much  like  twins  to  put  you  in 
my  clothes  and  to  send  you  down  stairs  to  dine  turn  and  turn 
about  with  me,  knowing  that  while  you  were  at  the  table  I 
could  have  slipped  into  the  pcntry  and  sneaked  my  dinner. , 
It  would  have  been  a  puzzler  for  mother  and  Nora,  and  great 
sjjort  for  us." 

"Of  course  you  are  joking,  but  our  present  scheme  is 
almost  as  ridiculous  as  that  would  have  been  except  the  fact 
that  we  can  cover  it  up  better  than  we  could  have  covered 
any  such  game  as  that.  If  your  mother  should  find  us  out 
I  am  afraid  that  she  will  not  have  a  very  good  opinion  of  me." 

"Make  yourself  easy,"  Bert  replied,  seeing  that  a  cloud  had 
crossed  Don's  face,  "and  come  to  your  dinners  like  a  man. 
Our  secret  will  be  as  safe  from  her  as  if  we  had  joined  the 
Masons  or  some  other  calathumpian  society." 

Their  little  fifty-cent  romance,  of  which  neither  the  widow 
nor  the  daughter  had  any  suspicion,  lasted  two  weeks. 


w    *.     I     nJ 


CHAPTER  VII. 


DON  HAS  A  GREAT  DAY. 


^^ 


Don  received  mild  reproaches  from  home  for  starting  out 
into  the  world  before  his  beard  was  grown,  and  the  letters  were 
filled  with  anxieties  tempered  with  hopes  and  blessings.  His 
replies  made  no  mention  of  his  predicaments;  he  was  too  proud 
to  indulge  in  whining,  and  withal,  too  considerate  to  burden 
his  friends  with  tales  of  his  sorrows.  Judging  from  his  ktters 
one  might  have  thought  that  the  far  away  boy  was  sitting  in 
a  tree-top  of  this  wonderful  world  seeing  sights  and  experienc- 
ing feelings  that  promptr'    mly  to  notes  of  song. 

He  got  a  long  ''nd  glo^ving  certificate  of  character  signed 
by  rustic  dignitaries  whose  names  were  of  no  more  account 
in  Boston  than  the  sands  upon  the  seashore,  and  for  the  reason 
that  though  he  pursued  his  weary  rounds  in  search  of  work, 
he  seldom  or  never  found  anyone  who  was  willing  to  notice 
the  stranger  enough  to  look  at  his  credentials.  He  again 
began  to  have  hard  thoughts  about  the  steeples,  for  he  had  not 
yet  learned  that  churches  and  worldly  affairs  more  often  than 
not,  have  as  little  to  do  with  one  another  as  old  maiils  have  to 
do  with  old  bachelors. 

Like  a  far  off  almost  forgotten  dream  came  the  "Id  words: 
"The  stranger  that  dwelleth  with  you  shall  be  as  one  born 
among  you,  and  ye  shall  love  him  as  thyself;  for  ye  were 
strangers  in  the  land  of  Egypt;  I  am  the  Lord,  your  God." 
He  remembered  the  words  of  The  Man  of  Nazareth,  "I  was  a 

(7a) 


'pttummuammnii 


JP  •  ifAPiii* 


^g  out 


AIR    OASTriK    DON 


78 


stranger,  and  yc  t.)ok  me  in,"  but  he  became  quite  sure  that 
cither  they  had  nt  ver  been  heard  in,  Doston  or  that  they 
had  been  outgrown  Ii;    iU"  people. 

On  sloppy  or  threat  -'.nj;  days,  lie  avoided  business  places, 
for  he  had  learnc.I  1>;.  hitler  experience  that  in  bad  weather 
men's  tempers  had  the  rheumatism  aiul  that  their  woids  were 
like  dragon's  teeth.  On  Such  days  he  took  refuge  in  Tl.i' 
Mariner's  Home,  where  he  .spent  part  of  the  time  listening  U) 
the  vivid  yarns  of  thi  old  sailors,  who  in  the  stormiest  weather, 
like  ducks  and  geese,  were  in  the  best  of  moods.  What  jol'y 
tars  they  werel  What  floo<Is  of  recollections  of  the  stormy 
deep  and  of  foreign  dinn  s,  and  of  perils  and  adventures  the 
gusts  of  wind  and  ^plashes  of  rain  set  in  motion !  He  almost 
regretted  that  he  had  not  been  sent  to  sea  to  roost  with  the 
blue-jackets  among  the  yards  and  ringing  of  some  far-going 
ship.  The  brutes  on  shipboard  could  not  be  more  numerous 
or  worse  than  those  on  land.  He  would  as  soon  be  bound 
hand  and  foot  and  delivered  over  to  the  cruel  mercies  of  the 
sea  as  to  be  left  unl>ound  and  delivered  over  to  the  equally 
cruel  negligences  of  tlie  land. 

Boys  think  as  readily  as  men,  and  quite  as  readily  does  the 
black  bile  get  into  their  blood  when  fortune  frowns  unkindly; 
and  quite  as  readily,  too,  does  the  black  tide  set  all  their 
thoughts  awry.  But,  thank  Heaven,  they  are  more  susceptible 
to  the  saving  grace  of  hope  and  the  healing  balm  of  forget- 
fulness,  and  far  more  readily  than  men  do  they  take  heart 
again.  And  so,  though  Don  had  his  mumps  he  made  quick 
jumps  from  the  'Slough  of  Despond'  to  solid  standing  ground. 

Having  formed  the  habit  of  reading  the,  daily  press  he 
had  become  so  interested  in  current  events  as  to  find  in  their 
larger  public  scope  influences  which  tended  to  diminish  the 
magnitude  of  his  private  annoyances.    All  Boston  and  the 


74 


Ain    CARTLK    DON 


regions  round  about  were  rife  with  political  excitement.  By 
some  inscrutable  stretch  of  partisan  nieanncss  the  great  Daniel 
Webster  had  been  refused  the  use  of  Taneuil  for  an  address 
to  his  friends  and  constituents. 

"Daniel  Webster  shut  out  of  I'ancuil  llali!"  exclaimed  Bert 
indignantly,  during  one  of  their  aftic  conversations.  "Great 
Scott!  What  a  pickle  that  is  for  Boston  to  be  in!  It's  enough 
to  make  one  sick  of  the  city." 

Daniel  Webster  was  one  of  Don's  idols,  and  sympathizing 
with  Bert's  indignation,  he  said:  "I  have  always  been  taught 
that  Webster  was  the  world's  greatest  statesman,  yet  here  he 
is  without  honor  in  his  own  city.  What  kind  of  patriotism  do 
you  call  that?" 

"No,  not  without  honor,"  was  the  quick  rejoinder.  "He 
comes  to-morrow,  and  is  to  speak  on  Boston  Common,  and 
you  will  see  the  biggest  crowd  around  him  you  ever  saw  in 
your  life — yes,  the  biggest  crowd  you  ever  dreamt  of.  And 
it  will  be  a  crowd  of  honor,  you  may  depend  upon  that.  You 
are  a  lucky  dog,  for  you  can  be  one  of  them  while  I  shall  have 
to  stay  cooped  up  in  that  old  store  like  a  parrot  in  a  cage. 
You'll  remember  his  looks  and  his  words  as  long  as  you  live. 
There  is  only  one  Daniel  Webster  in  this  world,  and  he  is 
so  great  I  don't  see  where  they  are  going  to  find  a  place  big 
enough  for  him  in  the  other  world.  One  of  the  last  things  I 
did  before  I  left  school  was  to  recite  a  part  of  one  of  his 
speeches,  and  the  words  made  my  blood  hum  as  if  I  were  a 
top." 

"Do  you  remember  the  words  now?"  Don  asked,  carried 
away  by  Bert's  fervor. 

"I  remember  this  much,"  said  Bert,  sliding  into  the  stirring 
sentences  as  easily  as  a  ship  slides  into  the  sea  at  a  launching. 
They  were  from  Webster's  last  speech  in  the  senate  of  the 


'*s«SSEES 


m  uluBiiMjiJ  .1  tiijiuiijiwiu  i«Li  I  '■■ 


"»"^"r" 


m 


Ain    OARTLR    DON 


7ft 


By 
)aniel 
Idress 


United  States:  "For  myself,  I  propose,  sir,  to  al)idc  by  the 
principles  and  the  purposes  T  have  avowed.  I  shall  stand  by 
the  Union  and  all  who  stand  by  it.  I  shall  do  justice  to  the 
whole  country,  according  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  in  all  I 
say,  anil  act  for  the  gooti  of  the  whole  country  in  all  I  do. 
I  tnenn  to  stand  upon  the  Constitution.  I  need  no  other  plat- 
form. [  shall  know  but  one  country.  The  ends  I  aim  at  shall 
be  my  ''untry's,  my  God's,  and  Truth'*.  I  was  born  an  Amer- 
ican; I  vvill  live  an  American;  I  shall  die  an  American;  and  I 
intend  to  perform  the  duties  incumbent  upon  me  in  that  char- 
actf'r  to  the  end  of  my  career.  I  mean  to  do  this,  with 
absolute  disregard  of  personal  consequences. 

"That's  the  kind  of  talk  Webster  gave  us,"  Bert  went  on, 
"talk  that  ought  to  lift  everyone  out  of  the  nutd  of  meanness 
into  the  pure  sky-blue.  And  yet,  confound  it!  We've  got 
enough  dirty  politicians  here  in  Boston  to  shut  him  out  of 
Faneuil  Hall.  If  I  had  them  alt  in  a  bunch,  I'l  boil  them  in  a 
lye-vat  and  see  if  I  couldn't  get  some  of  the  dirt  out  of  them." 

"Yes,  you  are  at  a  boiling  point  already,  and  I  don't  blame 
you,"  said  Don,  "for  men  who  would  insult  such  a  man  as 
Webster  are  as  bad  as  that  land-shark  Lammels,  you  hate  so 
much." 

"Lammels!"  Bert  exclaimed  explosively;  "why,  he  is  one  of 
the  city  fathers;  he's  the  alderman  from  our  ward,  and  there 
are  several  others  just  like  him  who  run  their  wards  by 
whiskey  and  then  try  to  run  the  city  by  the  same  kind  of  stuff. 
Most  of  our  politicians  are  only  fit  for  boot-blacks  to  the 
devil." 

Don  knew  little  about  city  governments,  and  less  about 
politics  in  general  and  becoming  interested  in  the  knowledge 
that  this  city  boy  seemed  to  posses,  he  asked  by  way  of  inform- 
ation:    "Isn't  Webster  a  politician?" 


I'i' 

m 


76 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Bert  Hashed  indignantly  at  his  friend  for  an  instant,  but 
seeing  that  he  was  not  trifling  with  him  he  repHed :  "Yes,  he 
is  a  politician,  only  you  spell  it  p-a-t-r-i-o-t,  and  that  makes  the 
same  difference  that  there  is  between  Satan  and  the  angel 
Gabriel.  And  you'll  know  well  enough  what  I  mean  when 
you  hear  Webster  to-morrow." 

When  Don  reached  the  speaking  place  on  Boston  Common 
the  next  day,  he  found  the  space  between  the  Frog  Pond  and 
the  Public  Garden  filled  with  tens  of  thousands  of  people. 
And  when  the  great  statesman  ascended  the  platform  the  wel- 
coming voice  of  the  multitude  was  as  the  sound  of  many 
waters.  When,  after  he  was  introduced  by  the  chairman  of 
the  meeting,  he  waved  his  hand  for  silence  the  tumult  sank  to 
a  dead  stillness  that  was  as  impressive  as  the  acclamation  that 
preceded  it.  Nor  was  the  calm  disturbed  save  when  some  tell- 
ing point  of  the  masterly  address  awoke  the  plaudits  of  the 
rapt  listeners. 

From  the  outskirts  of  the  vast  crowd,  by  processes  best 
known  to  a  boy,  Don  edged  his  way  through  the  mass  little 
by  littlCj^till  he  reached  the  front  of  the  platform  on  which 
Webster  stood.  Inch  by  inch,  as  if  irresistibly  drawn  by  the 
magnetism  of  the  speaker,  he  wormed  his  way  up  the  steps  to 
the  last  one,  where  he  sat  with  uplifted  face  enthralled  by  the 
high  brow,  the  dark  deep  set  eyes,  the  grave  countenance,  the 
deep  voluminous  voice,  the  magic  words,  the  transparent 
thoughts  and  the  calm  mighty  earnestness  of  the  "God-like 
man"  before  him.  And  once  when  Webster,  leaning  slightly 
forward  for  an  instant,  looked  steadily  down  into  his  eyes  he 
felt  as  though  he  were  expanding  into  the  largeness  of  space 
itself.  Nor  was  he  again  conscious  of  the  world  about  him  till 
the  mighty  shout  which  marked  the  last  sentence  of  Webster's 
last  public  speech  brought  him  back  to  earth.    Something  in 


^Bsa9BMiH#aaaaE*ii 


■iMMiWiiMM 


.-'*i 


9^:m>^^^mmmmm. 


AIB    CASTLB    DON 


n 


the  boy's  rapt  attitude  drew  the  attention  of  the  statesman  to 
him,  and  while  the  applause  was  still  thundering  through  the 
air  he  extended  his  hand  to  Don  and  greeted  him  with  a  grave 
earnest  pressure  that  thrilled  him  with  unspeakable  pleasure, 
although  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  keep  the  tears  back 
while,  for  the  first  and  the  last  time  he  gazed  into  the  sad, 
mighty  countenance  of  America's  greatest  intellect.  Weak- 
ened by  severe  labor,  disappointed  in  his  great  ambition,  over- 
burdened with  patriotic  anxieties,  and,  what  was  far  worse, 
grieved  by  the  rankest  ingratitude,  Webster  returned  to 
Marshfield,  where,  in  a  few  short  months  his  remains  were 
deposited  in  the  bosom  of  mother  earth. 

The  spell,  which  was  never  to  be  entirely  broken,  was  still 
strong  upon  Don,  when  Bert,  eager  to  obtain  an  account  of 
the  meeting,  rushed  into  the  attic  as  soon  as  he  leturned  from 
the  store  and  began  to  ply  him  with  anxious  questions. 

"I  shall  never  see  or  hear  his  like  again,  though  I  should 
live  a  thousand  years,"  said  Don,  breathing  a  long,  deep  sigh. 
"He  made  me  think  of  the  giant  singing  pines  of  Nova  Scotia, 
and  of  the  mighty  waves  I  have  seen  beating  against  the  Nova 
Scotian  coast.  All  the  steeples  in  the  city  couldn't  equal  the 
greatness  of  that  one  man ;  and,  though  you  won't  believe  me, 
he,  Daniel  Webster,  shook  hands  with  me  at  the  close  of  his 
speech." 

"You  I"  exclaimed  Bert  incredulously. 

Then  Don  explained  till  Bert  believed. 

"Yet,  the  man  who  can  speak  like  a  God,  and  shake  hands 
with  a  boy  like  a  friend  is  shut  out  of  Faneuil  Hall  by  such 
rascally  politicians  as  Lammels  and  his  gang,"  Bert  exclaimed 
angrily,  unable  to  banish  from  his  mind  the  indignity  to  which 
his  great  ideal  had  been  subjected. 

"But  the  fools  wrought  more  wisely  than  they  knew;  if 


'IBSV 


s4 


78 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


they  had  not  shut  him  out  he  would  not  have  spoken  to  fifty 
thousand  people  to-day,"  said  Don,  possibly  exaggerating  the 
number  of  the  vast  audience. 

Don's  great  day  extended  over  several  other  days,  for  that 
one  hour  and  a  half  of  Webster  remained  so  vividly  with  him 
as  to  obliterate  the  divisions  of  day  and  night  and  morning  and 
evening.  And  it  was  while  he  was  preoccupied  with  the  one 
event  that  another — a  second  event  happened,  and  welded 
itself  to  the  first,  so  that  the  two  thrilling  experiences  were 
identified  with  each  other. 

On  the  third  evening  after  the  Webster  speech,  Bert,  with- 
out the  ceremony  of  knocking,  about  which  he  had  always 
been  scrupulously  particular,  broke  into  his  room  radiant  with 
some  new  excitement 

"What  do  you  think,  old  boy!"  he  exclaimed,  almost 
breathlessly. 

"Webster,"  said  Don,  truthfully,  "I  can  hardly  think  any- 
thing else.  I  am  afraid  that  if  my  old  friend,  Peter  Piper,  were 
here,  he'd  say  I  was  climbing  Jacob's  ladder  when  I  ought  to 
be  fighting  my  battles  on  solid  ground  of  some  kind." 

"Well,  I  have  a  bit  of  solid  ground  for  you,"  said  Bert. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Don  anxiously,  beginning  to  feel  that 
Bert  had  important  news  for  him. 

"This  afternoon  I  had  to  go  into  a  bookstore  to  get  some 
books  to  help  fill  out  one  of  our  orders,  and  there  in  the 
window  was  a  notice — 'Boy  Wanted.'  So,  as  soon  as  I  got  the 
books,  I  asked  about  the  notice,  and  said  I  knew  a  boy  who 
might  possibly  suit  them.  Wickworth  &  Co.  know  me  so 
well  that  they  began  to  ask  questions  about  you,  I  simply 
answered  their  questions  without  plastering  on  the  praises. 
At  the  end  I  did  venture  to  tell  them  about  Webster  shaking 
hands  with  you;  it  was  a  chance  shot  but  it  went  straight  to 


Tiriiili<t 


>W'!'JI'*H»WI   "I  ,l«»i 


«  IJll'i  V    |i«i'    1'    i.l«l!<ll 


""""'■"» 


'■?^'^v. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


79 


fifty 
J  the 

that 
him 
and 
one 
elded 
were 


the  mark.  The  younger  Wickworth  is  a  great  Wrbster  man. 
He  was  down  to  the  Webster  meeting,  and  stood  ciose  by  the 
platform,  saw  you  there,  noticed  how  you  listened,  and  saw  the 
great  man  shake  hands  with  you.  He  liked  your  appearance, 
and  in  the  end  they  said  I  might  bring  you  up,  for  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  you  would  suit.  But  they  said  they  would 
only  pay  board  for  the  first  six  months.  Then  they  wanted  to 
know  how  much  we  charged ;  I  said  three  dollars  and  a  half  a 
week — and  you  know  that  is  our  regular  price  for  those  who 
board  below  the  attic.  They  thought  the  amount  was  reason- 
able. So,  there  you  are,  you  see,  with  a  margin  of  a  whole 
dollar  a  week,  that  is,  if  you  mind  your  ps  and  qs  to-morrow, 
and  get  the  place.  Their  store  is  only  a  short  distance  from 
ours,  and  we  can  go  and  come  together." 

Don  was  much  elated  at  the  prospects  opening  before  him, 
but  there  was  one  thing  that  cast  a  cloud  upon  the  aflfair,  and 
he  said:  "Bert,  you  are  an  awful  boy,  sure  enough.  How 
could  you  keep  an  honest  look  on  your  face  when  you  said  my 
board  was  three  dollars  and  ^a  half  a  week?" 

"That  was  straight  business,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "I 
wasn't  going  to  let  them  know  that  you  were  stowed  away  in 
an  attic.  It  is  three  dollars  and  a  half;  but  we  will  give  you 
one  dollar  and  a  half  to  keep  the  attic ;  nobody  else  will  take  it. 
You  must  have  something  to  keep  you  slicked  up;  if  you  don't, 
you'll  get  kicked  out;  slouches  won't  pass  muster  in  any  kind 
of  business.  So,  there  is  the  whole  thing  as  plain  as  a  bee 
sting  or  a  mosquito  bite." 

"Well,  put  that  way,  what  you  said  about  the  board  is 
right,  and  I'll  not  say  anything  to  contradict  you  when  I  see 
them." 

"Of  course  it's  right — as  right  as  a  sermon — right  for  all 
concerned." 


.  I'll  V  ii-imii  I  t<tit  *tt  fiif  m 


MitateaiiUrilitll 


■^^S^TJIKTry' 


•'7rp0Di^ 


".r^-w^i 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 

On  the  way  to  the  attic  Bert  saw  Nora,  to  whom  he  gave 
a  passing  hint  of  the  news  he  was  carrying  to  Don.  She 
wanted  to  know  all  about  it,  and  being  unwilling  to  wait, 
rapped  at  the  door  for  admittance. 

"Have  you  really  got  a  place  for  him,  Bert?"  she  asked  as 
soon  as  she  had  seated  herself  in  the  rocker. 

"He  is  plumb  up  against  the  door  of  a  place,  and  if  he 
doesn't  get  inside  it  won't  be  because  he  doesn't  deserve  to 
get  inside.  It  is  as  sure  as  anything  can  be  in  this  uncertain 
old  world."  And  Bert  smiled  upon  his  sister  so  cheerfully 
she  felt  that  it  was  as  good  as  settled. 

Addressing  herself  to  Don,  she  said  earnestly:  "Now  you 
can  get  out  of  this  horrid  attic,  and  take  a  good  square  room 
down  stairs,  can't  you?" 

"Really,  Nora,  you  are  very  con-sid-e-rate  of  your 
unworthy  brother!"  Bert  interrupted  with  mock  seriousness. 

"But  you  have  a  front  attic  with  two  windows  in  it  that  give 
you  a  full  view  of  the  Square,"  Nora  persisted,  pluckily. 

"Since  you  and  your  mother  brightened  this  room  up,  I  am 
as  contented  as  a  bird  in  its  nest,"  said  Don  sincerely.  "And 
being  so  near  your  brother,  makes  me  doubly  contented.  I 
am  no  longer  like  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret." 

"If  you  are  contented,  I  would  rather  have  you  near  him," 
Nora  said  with  much  satisfaction. 

"We  are  Two  Boston  Attic  Phi-los-o-phers,"  drawled 
Bert  with  his  usual  prolonged  emphasis  upon  the  big  word, 
"and  we  are  going  to  maintain  our  lofty  reputation  by  sticking 
to  good,  round  common  sense  in  spite  of  all  the  little  or  big 
girls  of  Boston." 


■*mwasyiBSL2*iia*i ' 


le  gave 
She 
o  wait, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THB  BACKBONB  OP  THB  BLACK  ARY. 

Don  knew  something  of  Nature;  of  how  sunshine,  air, 
clouds,  water,  earth,  and  even  rocks,  are  changed  into  potatoes, 
pumpkins,  grass,  grain,  worms,  birds,  beasts,  mankind — and 
womankind,  also.  He  had  gained  many  vague  hints  about 
these  things  from  the  various  books  with  which  he  had  become 
acquainted  in  his  short  life. 

But  it  was  precious  little  he  knew  about  the  book  business; 
of  how  ideas,  authors,  printers,  binders,  publishers  and  the 
public  get  jumbled  or  joined  together  in  the  processes  of  book- 
making,  bookselling  and  bookreading.  He  was  now  about 
to  learn  something  of  The  Black  Art,  from,  the  author's  first 
dip  into  the  inkstand  to  the  publisher's  last  advertisement  set- 
ting forth  the  author's  unique  genius  and  the  publisher's  super- 
natural enterprise  in  introducing  him  to  a  long  suflfering  and 
justly  exacting  public.  The  very  backbone  of  The  Black  Art 
was  to  be  laid  open  to  his  view;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  business  of  bookselling. 

He  had  read  somewhere  of  a  venerable  lady  who  tried  to 
manage  a  refractory  pig  she  had  purchased  in  the  market,  and 
of  the  wonderful  effects  of  a  piece  of  cheese.  The  mouse  hav- 
ing received  the  cheese,  began  to  gnaw  the  rope;  the  rope 
began  to  hang  the  butcher;  the  butcher  began  to  kill  the  ox; 
the  ox  began  to  drink  the  brook ;  the  brook  began  to  quench 
the  fire;  the  fire  began  to  bum  the  stick;  and  the  stick  began  to 
beat  the  pig;  and  so,  the  pig  went  over  the  stile,  enabling  the 

(8i) 


■^•aliMfai 


ff 


in^jif  »ii.ii.iiii»j.iii  mm.fKm.  ijg^.^ 


fr^ 


'ywp,'-!<p-^4..f;'/  ""Tl^fyivi'^^'fif^ffKi 


'.  K 


1 


82 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


matron  to  reach  her  home  in  time  to  save  her  pudding  which 
she  had  left  boiling  in  the  pot.  Don  was  to  learn  that  if  the 
author  gets  his  cheese  and  the  publisher  saves  his  pudding,  it 
is  a  sure  sign  of  the  success  of  all  the  intermediate  processes 
of  the  whole  business. 

The  Wickworth  firm  was  old  and  well  established,  but 
conservative  in  its  methods  and  comparatively  limited  in  its 
enterprise.  The  entire  force  consisted  of  the  two  brothers, 
the  senior  and  the  junior  members  of  the  firm,  two  general 
clerks,  and  a  boy  of  all  work. 

The   elder  brother,   quite   well   advanced   in   years,   was 

smooth-faced,   benevolent   in   appearance   and   a   prominent 

member  of  the  large  denomination  to  which  he  belonged,  and 

of  which  he  was  a  conspicuous  office-bearer.     The  junior 

member  had  been  a  colonel  in  the  Mexican  war.     His  black 

and    somewhat    neglected   hair,   and   bristling   and   fiercely 

brushed  beard  were  apt  to  give  the  impression  that  the  chief 

object  of  his  existence  was  to  make  people  feel  uncomfortable. 

In  religious  matters  he  was  forward  to  make  even  his  intimate 
friends  think  that  he  was  a  Philistine  of  the  Philistines.     In 

fine,  the  brothers  were  so  different  in  appearance  and  in  man- 
ners from  each  other  that  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  they 
were  the  offspring  of  the  same  parents. 

Bert  introduced  Don  to  the  partners  on  the  morning  when 
the  engagement  was  to  begin,  and  Don  was  quickly 
turned  over  to  the  colonel  for  the  preliminary  examination. 
Contrary  to  the  expectations  he  formed  from  the  appearance 
of  the  colonel,  he  was  questioned  kindly,  encouraged  gener- 
ously, aniJ  bidden  to  take  up  his  shop  duties  immediately. 

"A  boy  who  has  been  so  kindly  noticed  by  Daniel 
Webster,"  said  the  colonel  gravely,  "ought  to  be  able  to  com- 
mend himself  favorably  to  a  good  many  other  people." 


ser 


AIU    GASTLB    DON 


88 


which 
if  the 
•ng,  it 
>cesses 

d,  but 
in  its 
others, 
i:eneral 

s,  was 

minent 

;d,  and 

junior 

s  black 

fiercely 

le  chief 

artable. 

ntimate 
es.    In 

n  man- 

at  they 

?  when 
quickly 
nation. 
;arance 
gener- 
iiately. 
Daniel 
3  corn- 


Don  thereupon  began  his  work  with  a  light  and  resolute 
heart.  He  was  to  open  and  close  the  store,  clean  up  and  dust 
down,  pack  and  unpack  boxes  of  books,  wait  upon  customers 
as  opportunity  ofifered,  and  do  the  outside  errands  of  the  firm. 

These  outside  errands  formed  the  most  important  part  of 
his  duties.  If  books  in  stock  were  not  sufficient  to  meet  orders 
upon  the  firm,  he  was  to  go  among  the  other  stores,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  courtesies  of  the  trade,  pick  them  up 
wherever  he  could  find  them.  This  required  accuracy  and  dis- 
patch, but  it  was  congenial  because  it  involved  trust  and  at  the 
same  time  outdoor  change. 

While  making  his  first  rounds  in  this  outside  department  of 
duty  he  was  at  once  recognized  as  a  newcomer  and  an  inex- 
perienced hand.  He  was  accordingly  subjected  to  occasional 
tricks  and  chaffing  by  the  boys  who  had  already  passed  their 
novitiate  in  the  temples  of  The  Black  Art.  Having  been  fore- 
warned by  Bert  that  such  would  be  his  fate,  he  met  his  tor- 
mentors with  unfailing  good  nature  and  gave  as  good  as 
he  got. 

There  was  only  one  instance  in  which  he  lost  his  temper, 
and  this  was  in  Phillips  &  Sampson's  store,  where  a  very 
opprobrious  epithet  was  applied  to  him  one  morning  by  a 
young  underling  of  the  store  force.  Don  was  not  only 
described  as  verdant,  but  as  something  a  good  deal  worse. 
Laying  the  books  he  had  under  his  arms  upon  the  counter,  and 
turning  to  his  tormentor,  he  said:  "I  will  confess  that  I  am 
green  as  compared  with  fellows  of  your  stripe,  but  I  am  going 
to  teach  you  that  in  speaking  so  disrespectfully  to  me,  you  are 
far  greener  than  I."  And  he  seized  him  and  shook  him  till 
the  victim  was  ready  to  cry  quits. 

It  happened  that  one  of  the  proprietors  overheard  the 
epithet,  though  it  was  spoken  in  an  undertone,  and  Don  see- 


'■^1 


•VW  'Jf^^- 


84 


AIR    CA8TLK    DON 


ing  that  he  was  present,  said:  "I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  but 
I  draw  the  line  of  jest  at  the  term  used  by  your  clerk,  and  if 
I  had  him  in  some  other  place  he  would  not  get  off  as  easy  as 

he  has." 

"It  served  him  right,"  said  the  proprietor;  "and  no  apology 
is  necessary  from  you ;  that  should  come  from  him." 

The  incident  soon  went  the  Founds  of  the  stores,  and 
thenceforth  Don  was  exempted  from  annoyance. 

Deacon  Wickworth  having  heard  of  the  episode,  called 
Don  into  the  counting  room  and  reproved  him  for  letting  his 
temper  get  the  better  of  his  business  relations. 

The  colonel  followed  him  to  the  business  room,  and  with 
twinkling  eyes, said:  "This  is  one  of  the  things  about  which  my 
brother  and  I  diflfer.  Without  questioning  his  motives  or 
lessening  your  respect  for  him,  I  desire  to  say,  that  I  am  glad 
you  shook  that  whelp,  but  I  am  sorry  that  you  didn't  shake 
him  out  of  his  boots  and  whip  him  besides."  Doubtless  the 
colonel's  soldierly  blood  and  experiences  were  responsible  for 
his  belligerent  regrets. 

The  clerks  of  the  store  had  been  disposed  to  sneer  at  Don 
because  of  the  somewhat  rustic  suit  of  clothes  he  still  wore, 
and  they  had  also  been  inclined  to  attribute  his  belligerency 
to  his  rusticity;  but  now  that  the  colonel  had  applauded  him 
for  enforcing  due  respect  for  his  rights,  they  treated  him  as 
one  of  themselves. 

Bert  soon  heard  of  the  incident  through  an  acquaintance 
at  the  store  where  it  occurred,  and  lost  no  time  in  telling  it  to 
his  mother  and  Nora.  As  in  duty  bound,  the  mother  while 
regretting  the  affront,  also  regretted  the  violent  resentment 
provoked  by  it.  Nora,  however,  clapped  her  hands,  girl-like, 
and  with  sanguinary  fierceness,  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
colonel,    declared  that  she  was  sorry  that  Don  had  not  torn 


■MM 


»lr;  but 
1.  and  if 
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ipology 

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AIR    0A8TLB    DON  05 

the  very  coat  from  his  insuher's  back.  This  was  such  an 
unspeakably  naughty  wish  for  a  young  and  gentle  girl,  that 
her  mother  began  to  reprove  her  witli  great  severity. 

"Why,  mother,"  Nora  interrupted,  "what  would  you  do  if 
you  were  called  by  an  awful  bad  name?" 

"I'd  let  it  pass  without  notice ;  mere  names  can't  change  the 
nature  of  the  person  to  whom  they  are  given." 

"But  if  they  were  not  right  they  would  stir  you  up  all  the 
same,  said  Bert.  "And  though  they  might  not  set  your  arms 
going,  as  they  did  in  Don's  case,  they'd  set  your  pale  face 
flaming  like  dry  kindling." 

"And  I'd  scratch  the  eyes  out  of  anyone  that  insulted  me!" 
exclaimed  Nora,  indignantly.  Bert  and  Nora  being  in  the 
majority,  the  mother  without  acquiescing  in  their  opinions  or 
sympathizing  with  their  feelings,  remained  discreetly  silent. 

When  the  boys  were  in  the  front  attic  after  tea,  Bert  said: 
"I  overheard  some  of  the  folks  in  our  store  talking  about  you 
to-day.  Mr.  Phillips,  who  saw  you  shake  that  Bob  Larkins, 
was  telling  Mr.  Ticknor  and  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  about 
the  fracas.  He  said  you  shook  Larkins  as  a  terrior  shakes  a 
rdt,  and  then  apologized  to  the  house  as  though  you  were  Sir 
Charles  Grandison.  The  little  doctor  got  his  face  all  screwed 
out  of  shape  he  laughed  so  heartily ;  and  he  said  that  if  Russell 
Lowell  got  hold  of  the  story  he'd  make  a  whole  Bigelow  Paper 
out  of  it." 

"Aren't  you  stretching  things  a  bit?"  asked  Don,  coloring 
like  a  peach.  "Business  men  and  authors  can  hardly  be  inter- 
ested in  such  things  as  boys'  squabbles." 

"Don't  deceive  yourself  about  that!  If  Daniel  Webster 
himself  were  to  hear  how  his  boy-listener  got  turned  into  a 
clothes-shaker  he'd  laugh  in  spite  of  all  his  statesmanship  and 
dignity.    Every  man  is  but  the  ghost  of  a  boy,  and  though  he 


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CASTLE    DON 

should  {jrow  as  gray  and  as  cold  as  a  cloud,  the  stories  of  boy- 
scrapes  will  set  thp  ghos*^  to  grinning  like  a  comic  mask.  I'm 
nothing  but  a  boy,  yet  I  keep  my  eyes  and  ears  open  to  men, 
and  I  know  how  men  talk  over  their  boy -times  to  one  another, 
and  how  they  laugh  about  boy-scrapes.  I  haven't  been  at 
Ticknor  &  Fields'  for  nothing,  nor  even  for  five  dollars  a  week 
only." 

Bert  not  only  spoke  precociously,  but  he  looked  so  prema- 
turely knowing  that  Don  was  slightly  overawed,  as  was 
expressed  when  he  said:  "Look  here,  Bert!  You  talk  about 
men  being  but  the  ghosts  of  boys ;  but  I  solemnly  believe  that 
you  are  an  old  man  masquerading  in  a  boy's  skin;  and  some- 
times you  make  me  feel  as  though  you  were  never  a  real 
downright  boy,  such  as  we  have  in  the  country." 

"I  wish  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that  I  had  been  born 
in  the  country,"  Bert  replied  with  a  sigh;  "it  would  have  been 
something  to  remember.  If  you  had  been  born  and  brought 
up  in  a  city  among  the  bricks  and  stones  and  the  rattle  of  pave- 
ments and  lht=.  everlasting  rush  of  people,  without  a  chance  to 
see  the  country  from  one  year's  end  to  another,  you  wouldn't 
wonder  at  my  carrying  such  a  wrinkled  old  soul  in  such*a 
young  body.  You'd  feel  as  if  you  had  been  put  in  pickle  in 
the  days  of  Noah  and  had  never  had  a  chance  to  get  out  of  it." 

Thinking  that  he  had  touched  a  tender  chord  with  too 
rough  a  hand.  Don  began  to  explain  and  to  qualify  his  mean- 
ing, but  was  immediately  interrupted  with:  "Oh,  you  need 
not  be  at  the  trouble  of  taking  your  shoes  oflf,  now  that  you 
have  so  effectually  kicked  me  with  them  on.  True,  you  made 
me  feel  bad,  but  it  is  such  a  goodish  kind  of  badishness  that  I 
should  not  object  to  more  of  it.  You  may  let  the  blood  out  of 
my  veins  if  you  will  only  refill  them  with  some  of  the  fresh  stuff 
that  runs  in  your  own." 


'yjf'B^vv'W"' 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


^ 


Then  abruptly  changing  the  subject,  he  asked :  "How  do 
you  like  Wickworth  and  company?" 

"Quite  well;  or,  to  be  perfectly  honest,  I  like  the  colonel 
first  rate,  and  the  deacon  second  rate.  But  we  ought  not  to 
discuss  the  characters  of  the  people  for  whom  we  work — 
ought  we?" 

Bert  looked  at  him  seriously  for  a  moment,  and  then  broke 
into  a  laugh.  "It  is  easy  to  see,"  he  said,  "that  your  con- 
science was  brought  up  in  a  country  garden,  where  there  was 
plenty  of  room  and  soil ;  but  you  may  as  well  understand  first 
as  at  last  that  mine  sprung  up  through  cracks  in  the  pavement 
and  that  consequently  it  is  rather  weak  and  stunted.  Yet, 
right  or  wrong,  I  will  say  this ;  in  our  attic  we  have  the  liberty 
to  say  what  we  please  about  our  employers.  Why  shouldn't 
we  discuss  them  behind  their  backs,  when  they  would  as  good 
as  cuss  us  to  our  faces  if  we  should  happen  to  let  one  of  their 
smallest  pins  drop  out  of  place?  When  we  went  into  service 
we  -xpected  to  serve  as  lightning  rods  for  every  thunder  storm 
that  might  occur  in  the  ter^per  of  our  masters.  And,  besides, 
'that  careless  boy*  is  the  scapegrace  upon  whose  back  are 
placed  a!!  the  sins  of  omission  and  commission  that  properly 
belong  to  the  other  understrappers  of  the  establishment.  Our 
attic  is  our  kingdom,  where  we  propose  to  reign  over  our 
tongues  like  emperors.  If  you  were  to  tell  th«  truth  about 
the  colonel  and  the  deacon,  you  would  admit  that  in  their 
cases,  as  well  as  in  some  others,  appearances  are  very 
deceiving." 

"Yes,"  Don  replied,  relaxing  in  his  scruples,  "the  smooth, 
benevolent  face  of  the  deacon  made  me  think  that  he  was  good 
enough  for  a  whole  steeple,  while  the  rough  face  and  manners 
of  the  colonel  made  me  think  that  he  was  ugly  enough  for  a 
whipping  post." 


I  ti 


!?, 


r 


txi 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


"Exactly;  the  sugar  tag  is  on  the  deacon  and  the  acid  tag 
on  the  colonel,  when  it  ought,  by  good  rights,  to  be  just  the 
other  way.  Somebody  made  a  big  blunder  when  those  two 
packages  of  humanity  were  done  up.  I  never  see  them  with- 
out asking  as  Tom  Hood  makes  his  bachelor  ask  in  The  Bach- 
elor's Dream  at  the  end  of  every  verse :  ;     *        •       ; 

-    What  d*  ye  think  of  tha*.  my  cat?  '      * ' 

What  d*  ye  think  of  that,  my  dog?" 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Don,  "that  the  remembrance  of  what 
you  have  said  may  sometimes  take  me  unawares  and  tickle  me 
into  laughing  at  them  under  their  very  noses." 

"If  the  deacon  were  to  see  you  smiling,  he  would  freeze  you 
at  a  glance,  but  if  the  colonel  should  happen  tc  catch  you  at  it, 
he  would  take  it  for  granted  that  your  thought:  were  worth 
laughing  at,  and  would  smile  to  see  you  smile.  There  is  more 
fun  in  him  than  you  would  think.  I  was  over  there  one  day 
for  books.  He  took  them  from  the  shelf  and  slammed  them 
upon  the  counter  as  if  he  we:  i  firing  hot  shot  at  the  Mexicans. 
I  laughed  aloud  at  his  seeming  ugliness,  and  then  u?ked  his 
pardon  for  my  impudence;  and  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  do  it, 
too,  that  the  ludicrousness  of  it  set  him  to  shaking  all  over. 
Seeing  how  his  mirth  contradicted  his  slamming  of  the  books, 
I  giggled  like  a  girl,  and  to  save  myself  I  cut  and  run  as  fast 
as  I  could  go." 

"I  notice  that  he  has  a  habit  of  slamming  books  about," 
said  Don;  "and  he  does  it  sometimes  when  there  isn't  a  soul 
standing  near  him.     What  do  you  suppose  makes  him  do  it?" 

"In  the  first  place  a  book  is  as  good  as  a  door  for  a  slam 
when  you  don't  want  to  say  damn  right  out;  and  in  the  second 
place,  when  you  catch  him  at  that  sort  of  thing,  it  is  more 
than  likely  that  he  has  been  having  some  kind  of  a  battle  with 
h*«  brother.    It  is  common  talk  among  the  book  stores  that 


acid  tag 
just  the 
lose  two 
itn  with- 
le  Bach- 


of  what 
ickle  me 

;eze  you 
ou  at  it, 
e  worth 
is  more 
one  day 
ed  them 
exicans. 
■ked  his 
to  do  it, 
ill  over, 
books, 
as  fast 

about," 
a  soul 
do  it?" 
a  slam 
second 
more 
e  with 
:s  that 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


89 


he  and  his  brother  do  not  agree  over  well  about  anything. 
You,  however,  should  not  trouble  yourself  about  their  differ- 
ences, for  they  do  not  concern  you.  Yet  allow  me  to  give  you 
this  tit  of  advice;  when  the  deacon  is  around,  keep  your  face 
as  tight  as  the  face  of  a  base  ball,  but  when  the  colonel  is  near 
you  can  let  it  do  as  it  pleases.  If  both  should  happen  to  be 
by,  you  can  look  base  ball  on  one  side,  and  Don  Donalds  on 
the  other  side.  If  your  conscience  should  trouble  you  for 
being  doublefac^d,  you  can  easily  pacify  it  by  pleading 
necessity." 

"There  is  an  easier  way  than  that,"  replied  Don  seriously, 
"and  that  is  to  do  my  duty  to  the  best  of  my  ability  and  then 
leave  my  face  to  look  out  for  itself.  I  detest  hypocrisy  of  any 
kind." 

"Yes;  that  is  just  the  danger  of  it.  You  hate  hypocrisy  so 
much,  and,  at  the  same  time  have  such  a  tell-tale  countenance 
that  some  of  these  days  your  contempt  for  the  deacon  will 
blaze  into  your  face  and  then  there  will  be  the  deuce  to  pay,  for 
he  is  suspicious  as  well  as  vindictive.  So,  for  your  own  good, 
it  will  be  best  for  you  to  cultivate,  or,  rather,  to  sev;  on  a  good 
leather  base  ball  face  over  the  threads  and  yarns  of  your  heart. 
And  by  the  way,  I  need  to  take  some  of  my  own  advice,  for  I 
do  not  always  practice  in  the  store  what  I  am  preaching  here 
in  the  attic.  I  am  naturally  inclined  to  sulk  if  things  do  not 
suit  me,  and  although  I  have  the  best  of  employers,  I  am 
awfully  sulky  some  days.  It  is  then  that  I  get  my  worst 
knocks.  And  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  either,  for  a  sulky 
face  is  the  most  impudent  and  insulting  show  that  one  can 
make  while  on  duty." 

"Suppose  we  give  one  night  a  week  to  the  study  of  this 
face  business?"  said  Don,  quite  soberly.  "Our  teachers  used 
to  drill  us  in  facial  expression  whenever  we  had  anything  to 


■■■'  II  1^11  iiifii 


■MiMitfainnr:,. 


rniii^liiJflrf 


90 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


declaim;  we  can  go  a  little  further,  and  drill  ourselves  in  facial 
repose.  Such  an  exercus  as  this  would  help  us  to  guard  our- 
selves from  having  our  feelings  known  to  everybody  that 
chooses  to  poke  his  glances  at  us  when  we  are  supposed  to  be 
out  of  humor." 

"I  agree  to  that,  and  you  shall  be  the  teacher;  for  while  you 
are  laughing  at  me  in  your  sleeves  you  are  keeping  as  sober 
as  if  you  were  a  law  book  bound  in  sheep.  You  are  better  at 
face-keeping  than  I  supposed  you  could  be." 

"How,  then,  did  you  know  that  I  was  laughing  in  my 
sleeves,  as  you  say?" 

"Because  the  twinkles  were  leaking  out  of  the  corners  of 
your  eyes;  "we'll  have  to  discipline  them,  too,  if  our  lessons 
are  to  do  us  any  good.  But  it  strikes  me  that  our  conversa- 
tion has  taken  a  queer  turn;  we  began  by  criticising  our 
employers,  and  end  by  criticising  ourselves." 

"That  is  a  good  place  to  end  at,  but  it  would  be  still  better 
if  we  were  to  begin  there  and  keep  there  most  of  the  time," 
said  Don,  and  so  suggestively  withal,  that  Bert  deemed  it 
advisable  to  change  the  subject. 


I  ■; 


■%    <     -■/    t,-.«. 


s  in  facial 
uard  our- 
>ody  that 
3sed  to  be 

while  you 
',  as  sober 
:  better  at 

ig  in  my 

romers  of 
ir  lessons 
conversa- 
ising  our 

itill  better 
he  time," 
leemed  it 


!ry."-qrn  .  "(iw*  ■■"'i'"  ""  p^ji  f'  ''-w  ^  >  i.  •' 


ii«ii  II  W{^'m^m9f^f^^'^mi9g^mmmmrm^''^^^m9* 


J  III     I    .    mwii^j 


CHAPTER   IX. 


PAYING   FOR   A   DISAPPOINTMENT. 

One  evening  Bert  entered  Don's  attic  with  an  evening 
paper  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  project  in  his  head.  "I  have  hit 
it  at  last,"  he  said  mysteriously. 

"A  fortune,  I  hope,  for  there  is  nothing  too  good  for  you," 
said  Don,  sympathetically  responding  to  Bert's  look  and 
manner. 

"No,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  fortune  for  a  North  Square 
gamin,  but  it  is  something  that  will  answer  equally  well  for 
one  day  at"  least.  You  know  that  there  is  to  be  a  great  rail- 
road celebration  in  Boston  next  week,  and  this  paper  says  that 
all  business  will  be  suspended  for  the  day." 

"And  that  means  a  holiday  I'or  us,"  Don  said  quickly. 
"What  shall  we  do  with  it?  Spend  the  day  playing  ball  at  the 
foot  of  Boston  Common?  Or  shall  we  play  ball  during  the 
forenoon  and  fish  from  the  end  of  the  wharf  during  the  rest  of 
the  day?" 

"No,  sir!"  said  Bert,  with  a  vigorous  toss  of  his  head,  and 
a  touch  of  scorn  in  his  face;  "that  sort  of  thing  got  played  out 
with  me  long,  1-o-n-g  ago.  I'm  sick  of  Boston  Common  and 
its  everlasting  sameness;  and  unless  you  take  a  rocking  chair 
with  you,  it  is  too  hard  work  sitting  on  an  oak  plank  waiting 
for  a  bite  that  may  never  come." 

"Then  we  will  run  about  the  town  after  the  bands,  the 
soldiers,  societies  and  the  speakers  and  big  men;  that  will  be 
better  still,"  said  Don. 

(91) 


i^ 


ill: 


UHMriMi 


•  AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"I  have  had  so  much  of  that,  that  if  they  were  to  join  Eng- 
land and  tlie  United  States  together  by  rail,  instead  of  Canada 
and  Boston,  and  were  to  b-ing  together  all  the  soldiers,  drums 
and  big  men  of  the  two  countries,  I  wouldn't  give  a  peanut  for 
the  show.  I  am  going  to  compensate  myself  for  the  greatest 
disappointment  of  my  life  by  celebrating  the  day  according 
to  my  own  notions,  and  not  according  to  the  notions  of  the  city 
fathers  or  the  city  children  either."  And  Bert  spoke  so  slowly 
and  solemnly  that  Don  was  unable  to  decide  whether  he  was 
in  earnest  or  in  jest.  * 

"What  was  your  disappointment?"  he  asked  by  way  of  get- 
ting at  his  friend's  purpose. 

"I  told  you  not  long  since,  that  I  was  born  and  brought 
up  in  Boston — and  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  proud  of  it  to  my 
dying  day — bu'.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  when  I  was  one  year 
old,  my  m.other  took  me  with  her  when  she  made  a  voyage 
around  the  world  with  father  while  he  was  captain  of  the  ship 
Fleetwood.  Now,  if  there  is  anything  under  the  sun  that  is 
more  provoking  than  any  other  thing,  it  is  to  discover  that 
you  have  travelled  all  over  creation  without  knowing  or  enjoy- 
ing the  trip.  I  awoke  the  other  night  and  thought  the  whole 
matter  out,  and  I  concluded  that  that  trip  was  the  greatest 
disappointment  of  my  life. 

Don  began  to  laugh,  and  the  more  he  looked  at  Bert,  and 
saw  how  he  kept  his  face,  the  more  he  laughed. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  How  can  you  com- 
pensate for  it?"  Don  asked,  with  difficulty  restraining  another 
outburst  of  mirth. 

"I  am  going  to  hire  a  sailboat  on  railroad  day  and  make  a 
trip  with  Nora  down  the  harbor  and  into  the  country.  I  never 
did  such  a  thing  before,  and  I  never  expect  to  do  it  again." 

"But  if  you  have  never  managed  a  boat,  you  cannot  do  it 


"••'^^'W? 


w^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


98 


|join  Eng- 
>f  Canada 
rs,  driims 
eanut  for 
|e  greatest 
ccording 
3f  the  city 
so  slowly 
-r  he  was 

ay  of  get- 
brought 
it  to  my 

one  year 
[a  voyage 

the  ship 
in  that  is 
3ver  that 
3r  enjoy- 
he  whole 

greatest 

5ert,  and 

3u  com- 
another 

make  a 
I  never 
in." 
it  do  it 


now;  it  would  be  foolhardy  to  attempt  it."  Don  was  becom- 
ing alarmed. 

"I  don't  propose  to  do  the  managing;  I  suppose  from  what 
I  have  heard  you  say  about  handling  boats,  that  you  know  all 
about  them.  I  am  going  to  find  the  boat  and  you  are  to  do 
the  niannging.     How  does  that  strike  you?" 

Don  clapped  his  hands  applaudingly,  ;«.nd  promptly 
accepted  the  proposed  burden.  "But,"  said  he,  "your  mother 
ought  to  be  included  in  the  party ;  an  outing  will  do  her  good." 

"I  have  spoken  to  her,"  Bert  replied,  "but  since  father's 
death  she  hates  the  sea  so  much  she  doesn't  like  even  to  look 
upon  it.  She  believes  that  you  have  been  accustomed  to  boats, 
and  notwithstanding  her  dislike  for  salt  water,  is  willing  that 
Nora  should  accompany  us.  Nora  is  delighted,  and  I  do  not 
wonder,  for  she  has  been  as  much  caged  as  I  have.  Boston 
Common  is  about  all  she  knows  of  the  outer  world.  Now  you 
can  begin  to  give  your  orders  as  soon  as  you  please,  for  though 
you  are  green  to  the  city,  I  am  greener  still  so  far  as  the  water 
or  the  country  is  concerned."  >  ,i 

"There  is  little  ordering  to  be  done,"  said  Don;  "all  we 
need  is  to  secure  a  boat  as  early  as  possible,  because  boats  will 
probably  be  in  demand  on  that  holiday.  We  can  go  to  the 
boat  basin  to-morrow  night  and  make  our  selection.  I  may 
add,  that  it  will  be  well  to  provide  an  ample  lunch,  for  as  soon 
as  your  appetite  finds  that  you  are  on  salt  water,  it  will  begin 
to  make  larger  demands  than  usual.  To  prevent  disappoint- 
ment, I  must  warn  you  beforehand  that  everything  depends 
upon  the  weather;  we  shall  not  start  unless  all  the  signs 
promise  good  weather  for  the  day.  With  Nora  to  care  for,  we 
shall  not  even  risk  discomfort." 

"I  don't  believe  that  the  Lord  takes  much  stock  in  railroads 
or  in  railroad  celebrations,"  Bert  began,  "and  if  the  rain  took 


•dhkMM 


94 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


i 


a  notion  to  come  down  on  that  day,  I  don't  believe  that  he'd 
prevent  it  for  the  railroad's  sake.  But  if  he  knew  that  a  girl 
and  two  boys  were  praying  for  good  weather  so  that  they 
might  get  out  of  prison  for  a  few  hours,  I  think  he'd  tell  ihe 
clouds  to  steer  clear  of  Boston  for  their  sakes.  At  any  rate 
all  three  of  us  ought  to  pray  hard  for  a  favoring  sky.  But 
even  in  case  there  shouldn't  be  a  cloud  in  sight  when  we  start, 
wouldn't  it  be  prudent  to  have  a  pair  of  umbrellas  with  us?" 

"Oh,  don't  make  light  of  sacred  things!"  Don  exclaimed  in 
a  shocked  way. 

"I  am  not  making  light  of  them;  I  am  only  putting  in  my 
heaviest  licks  to  get  them  to  be  on  our  side,"  Bert  protested. 
"When  one  is  trying  to  pay  himself  for  the  greatest  disappoint- 
ment of  his  life,  joking  is  out  of  the  question.  I  shall  ask 
mother  co  pray  for  us,  for  she  has  lots  of  religious  gumption. 
If  there  should  be  anything  crooked  about  our  prayers,  hers 
would  be  straight  enough  to  make  up  for  them,  even  though 
she  should  bring  the  clouds  down  to  the  surface  of  the  water 
on  Celebration  Day."  . 

Don  was  a  good  judge  of  boats,  and  he  selected  a  trim, 
staunch  little  craft  that  carried  a  jib  and  mainsail  with  sheets 
and  halliards  running  aft,  where  he  could  handle  them  without 
moving  from  the  tiller.  Bert  would  be  of  no  service  as  a 
sailor,  but  with  the  ropes  under  his  own  hand,  Don,  m  case 
of  head  wind  could  tack  as  he  pleased,  and,  should  x  squall 
spring  up,  he  could  drop  his  sails  in  an  instant. 

The  anxiously  anticipated  day  came  like  the  smile  of  God; 
a  cloudless,  balmy  day  with  just  wind  enough  to  foster  the 
impression  that  the  Infinite  Father  of  all  was  breathing  peace- 
fully and  paternally  upon  a  short-sighted  and  sorrowing  world, 
and  wooing  it  to  think  of  that  better  country  in  which 
"God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes ;  and  there  shall 


ifiifii^---*^-''--'^'-^"''''''"'*'^'^'''*^"^'^'*'''''*^^ 


■<"  "r-'f 


AIR    CA8TLB    DON 


96 


that  he'd 
Ihat  a  girl 

that  they 
fd  tell  ihe 

any  rate 
iky.     But 

we  start, 
th  us?" 
laimed  in 

ng  in  my 
jrotested. 
sappoint- 
shall  ask 
umption. 
ers,  hers 
1  though 
he  water 

1  a  trim, 
th  sheets 

without 
ice  as  a 

m  case 
i  squall 

of  God; 
ster  the 
',  peace- 
r  world, 
which 
re  shall 


be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall 
there  be  any  more  pain,  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away." 

Don  looked  his  boat  over  with  an  experienced  eye,  and 
seeing  that  everything  was  snug  and  ship-shape,  he  hoisted  his 
sails  and  swung  out  into  the  stream  among  the  numerous  little 
craft  that  gaily  floated  around  him,  with  a  confidence  and  skill 
that  commanded  Bert's  unbounded  admiration  and  respect. 
Nora's  happiness  was  so  great  that,  finding  no  words  with 
which  to  express  her  pleasure,  she  sat  as  still  as  a  brooding 
bird. 

Only  once  did  Bert  become  alarmed.  Don  was  running 
the  boat  close  into  the  wind.  Dead  ahead  of  him  there  was  a 
crowded  excursion  steamer  with  scores  of  flags  floating  in  the 
bright  sun. 

"She'll  run  U'S  down,"  Bert  shrieked  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Don  calmly;  "I  have  the  weather 
gage  and  she  will  recognize  that  I  have  the  right  of  way." 

"But  a  big  craft  like  that  won't  mind  such  a  shell  of  a  thing 
as  we  are  in.    For  Heaven's  sake,  Don,  get  out  of  her  way!" 

But  Don,  unmoved,  kept  his  course,  and  when  the  steamer 
began  to  draw  near  she  swung  from  her  straight  wake  making 
a  graceful  curve,  which  left  the  boat  a  safe  distance  to  wind- 
ward. The  man  at  the  wheel  knew  that  the  little  craft  was 
sovereign  in  her  rights,  and  he  changed  his  direction  as  a 
matter  of  course,  while  the  gaily  dressed  passengers  waved 
their  handkerchiefs  and  cheered  at  the  young  voyagers  in  the 
boat. 

"Well,  I  declare!"  Bert  exclaimed,  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  face,  "if  that's  the  way  the  weather  gage  works,  why 
don't  they  land  some  of  it  and  apply  it  to  the  big  things  that 
are  always  running  over  the  small  things?" 


■iMiaiiaiM 


MHaiMcaiyiig 


mfrna^ 


96 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


;;» 


"There  is  lots  of  it  on  shore-  already,"  said  Don,  In  a  matter 
of  fact  way.  "For  instance,  if  you  were  pulling  a  hand-cart 
in  the  street  and  were  on  the  right  of  it,  the  most  aristocratic 
carriage  tiiat  goes  would  have  to  give  you  the  right  of  way; 
and  it  is  the  same  in  a  hundred  other  cases.  But  for  this 
respect  for  the  undoubted  rights  of  others  the  world  would  be 
a  good  deal  worse  than  it  is." 

"I'll  stick  up  for  the  weather  gage  all  the  rest  of  my  days," 
said  Hert.  "But  suppose  that  the  steamer  had  not  seen  us?" 
he  suddenly  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"That  is  not  a  supposahlo  case,"  Don  replied;  "she  had  her 
lookout  at  the  fore,  ami  it  was  his  duty  to  see  everything  ahead 
of  him;  besides,  the  pilot  himself  steered  with  his  eyes  open. 
If  I  had  steered  any  closer  to  the  wind,  I  should  have  lost  my 
headway  altogether.  The  steamer  knew  that  so  far  as  we  were 
concerned  it  was  our  duty  to  keep  our  course,  and  that  is  why 
she  changed  hers." 

"Yet  I  was  almost  frightened  to  death,"  Bert  said  sheep- 
ishly. Addressing  himself  to  his  sister,  he  added:  "Weren't 
you  scared?" 

"No;  of  course  I  wasn't,"  she  replied  truthfully;  "and  I 
wondered  why  you  made  such  a  fuss." 

"That  was  because  you  didn't  know  enough  to  be  scared, 
and  that  is  ihe  way  it  generally  is  with  you  females." 

"Well,  I  would  rather  be  ignorant  than  frightened.  I  am 
enjoying  this  sail  altogether  too  much  to  spoil  it  by  borrowing 
trouble.  When  Don  begins  to  show  the  white  feather,  I  will 
show  mine  to  keep  him  company." 

"Well,  I  think  you  are  about  right  after  all,  little  Miss 
Coolhead." 

Then  turning  to  Don,  Bert  said:  "The  outdoors  you  have 
lived  in  is  a  good  deal  wider  than  the  indoors  which  has  been 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


91 


a  matter 

land-cart 

ristocratic 

of  way; 

for  this 
would  be 

ny  days," 
seen  us?" 

e  had  her 
ng  ahead 
yes  open, 
c  lost  my 
I  we  were 
at  is  why 

id  sheep- 
"Weren't 

;  "and  I 

e  scared, 

I.  I  am 
•rrowing 
r.  I  will 

:le  Miss 

ou  have 
as  been 


the  prison-house  of  the  most  of  my  life,  and  you  show  it  in 
almost  everything  you  do  or  say.  Boston  may  be  the  hub  of 
the  universe,  as  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  says,  but  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  she  is  only  a  fly  on  the  real  hub.  Two 
things  are  becoming  very  plain  to  me;  one  is,  that  I  have  been 
raised  in  Boston,  and  the  other  is,  that  you  have  been  raised 
in  the  universe.  During  the  first  of  our  acquaintance,  i 
thought  you  very  verdant,  but  I  will  never  again  call  you 
green;  never  1" 

Don  smiled  contentedly,  but  as  the  wind  was  freshening 
and  the  boat  was  careening  to  the  breeze,  he  confined  his 
energies  and  watchfulness  to  the  management  of  the  little  craft. 

As  they  sailed  further  and  further  away  from  the  city,  and 
passed  the  islands  in  the  outer  harbor,  Bert  suddenly  realized 
that  a  vast  and  pregnant  silence  was  taking  the  place  of  the 
rasping  and  petty  tumult  of  the  city.  Drawing  a  long  breath 
of  satisfaction  he  reverently  said:  "If  this  stillness  keeps  on 
growing  at  this  rate  it  will  soon  be  still  enough  to  hear  God." 

Don  recalled  the  hours  he  had  spent  in  the  still  glades  of 
the  wilderness,  and  responding  to  Bert's  feelings,  he  replied: 
"Perhaps  you  are  hearing  Him  already?" 

Just  then  a  heavy  battery  of  guns  fired  a  salute  in  honor  of 
the  Governor-General  of  Canada,  and  Bert  was  so  annoyed  by 
the  reverberations  that  he  said  reflectively:  "We  shall  not 
hear  God  till  we  get  beyond  the  sound  of  those  guns." 

In  preparation  for  the  trip  Don  had  stud'ed  a  map  of  the 
surroundings  of  Boston.  Having  gone  as  fa  as  he  thought 
it  was  safe,  he  ran  the  boat  into  a  little  sandy  bay  and  tied  up 
to  >^  small  wharf.  Thence  they  wandered  over  the  white  beach 
picking  up  shells  and  other  marine  curiosities.  Then  they 
passed  into  a  lane  that  led  to  the  upland  farms,  gathering 
many-hued  pebbles  as  they  went.    Seeing  a  wide-spreading 


98 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


apple-tree  witl  in  a  fence  close  by  a  farm  house,  they  asked 
permission  of  the  farmer  to  eat  their  dinner  in  the  shade. 

"Of  course,"  said  the  farmer,  cordially,  "that  apple  tree  is 
just  longing  for  someone  to  get  under  its  shade.  And  speak- 
ing to  a  rosy-faced  girl  of  about  twelve,  he  added,  smilingly: 
"Here,  Doxy,  get  a  half  gallon  of  milk  for  these  youngsters." 

While  the  three  were  enjoying  the  rich  fresh  milk  under 
the  tree,  Nora  said:  "We  never  get  such  milk  as  this  in  the 
city." 

"No,"  Bert  replied,  "it  gets  so  tired  on  the  way  to  the  city 
that  by  the  time  it  comes  to  the  table  it  is  too  weak  for  any- 
thing." 

But  for  his  ingrain  courtesy  Don  would  have  assented 
heartily  to  the  remark,  for  all  the  milk  he  had  seen  since  his 
arrival  among  North  Square  boarding  houses,  so  nearly 
resembled  the  color  of  the  sky,  that  fearing  it  was  treated  to 
doses  of  washing  blumg,  he  abstained  from  it  altogether. 

"Why,  you  drmk  this  milk,  but  you  don't  take  any  at 
home,"  said  Nora  innocently. 

"I  am  partial  to  cows,"  Don  replied  evasively,  "and  as  this 
milk  must  be  quite  near  to  them,  I  drink  it  for  their  sakes." 

Nora  looked  at  him  so  sharply,  and  blushed  so  vividly,  that 
he  repented  at  once,  and  immediately  proposed  that  they 
should  go  into  the  woods  after  dinner. 

When  they  asked  the  farmer's  permission  io  go  into  the 
wood-lot  and  gather  ferns,  he  said:  "Gather  anything  you 
please;  take  a  cart  load  of  ferns  if  you  can  find  them.  You 
are  so  polite  and  civil  I  am  glad  to  see  you  enjoy  yourselves." 

When  they  returned  from  the  lot  he  invited  them  into  the 
house,  where  the  inmates  brought  them  cool  well  water  to 
cleanse  the  soil  from  their  hands,  and  Doxy  gave  them  large 
bunches  of  late  flowers  to  take  with  them  on  their  return. 


they  asked 
lade. 

pple  tree  is 
And  speak- 
smilingly: 
oungsters." 
milk  under 
i  this  in  the 

'  to  the  city 
ak  for  any- 

ve  assented 
:n  since  his 
so  nearly 
p  treated  to 
'gether. 
ake  any  at 

'and  as  this 
;r  sakes." 
rividly,  that 
that  they 

ro  into  the 
I'thing  you 
lem.  You 
ourselves." 
m  into  the 
1  water  to 
:hem  large 
etum. 


AIK    CASTLE    DON 


99 


The  wind  being  fair  and  strong  the  boat  sped  back  to  the 
city  like  a  bird  on  wing,  and  Bert  after  a  prolonged  silence 
said:  "This  is  the  only  whole  day  I  have  spent  out  of  Boston 
since  I  was  two  years  old.  You  may  talk  about  your  Webster 
day  as  the  greatest  day  of  your  life,  but  this  has  been  my 
greatest  day,  and  very  much  of  it  I  owe  to  your  knowledge 
of  the  water  and  the  country.     Have  you  enjoyed  it?" 

"Yes,"  Don  replied,  "it  has  been  like  being  home  again; 
and  I  have  enjoyed  it  doubly  because  you  and  Nora  were  so 
happy." 

When  the  spoils  of  the  day  were  arrayed  upon  the  table 
before  the  little  mother,  accompanied  by  the  voluble  com- 
ments of  her  children  the  cloud  of  sadness  and  anxiety  which 
was  almost  habitual  with  her,  disappeared  entirely,  so  that  for 
the  time  being  she  looked  as  sunny  as  the  children  themselves. 

"I  didn't  see  a  single  keep-your-hands-off,  nor  a  single 
keep-off -the-grass  sign  while  we  were  ashore,"  said  Nora; 
"and  we  have  been  so  near  Heaven  all  day  long  that  we  almost 
tumbled  in." 


■f. 


„...-..■„—,  .■j.<A.^-..iiA«n  A 


i«i/Ki9tAn 


IP 


CHAPTER   X. 


Or,t)  FAILINGS  REVIVED. 

The  wholesome  drudgery  oi  the  store,  and  the  not 
unhealthy  limitations  of  the  attic  had  a  tendency  to  keep  Don 
quite  near  the  earth.  He  was  compelled  to  sew  on  his  own 
buttons,  mend  his  socks,  repair  his  garments  and  contrive  to 
make  his  dollar  margin  cover  the  unexpected  incidentals  that 
continually  intruded  themselves  upon  his  calculations.  He 
was  not  only  learning  the  value  of  small  things,  but  the  sacred- 
ness  of  common  obligations,  as  well.  He  paid  his  indebted- 
ness to  Bert,  and  was  no  less  scrupulous  in  meeting  his  weekly 
obligations  to  Mrs.  Williams,  for  he  knew  that  she,  too,  was 
obliged  to  manage  closely  in  order  to  make  her  income  meet 
her  necessary  expenditures. 

Yet,  practical  and  commonplace  as  were  his  surroundings, 
his  imagination  refused  to  be  hobbled,  and  his  dreaming 
machine  was  seldom  out  of  repair.  Several  circumstances 
combined  to  revive  his  old  failing  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
make  it  difficult  for  him  to  keep  in  thorough  touch  with  every- 
day life. 

Colonel  Wickworth  was  a  great  admirer  of  General 
Winfield  Scott.  Well  he  might  be,  for  it  was  under  his  com- 
mand that  he  took  part  in  the  battles  of  Cerro  Gordo,  Con- 
treras,  Cherubusco,  Chapultepec  and  Mexico;  and  he  was  with 
the  giant  general  when  he  captured  Santa  Anna,  the  wooden- 
legged  chief  of  the  Mexican  forces,  and  president  of  the  Mexi- 
can Republic. 


"•^'iwlitlMl.. 


the    not 

keep  Don 

n  his  own 

;ontrive  to 

entals  that 

ions.    He 

the  sacred- 

indebted- 

his  weekly 

;,  too,  was 

:ome  meet 

roundings, 
dreaming 
umstances 
tent  as  to 
nth  every- 

f  General 
■  his  com- 
rdo,  Con- 
:  was  with 
!  wooden- 
the  Mexi- 


AIB    CASTLE    DON 

The  colonel  was  fond  of  recounting  adventures,  and  when 
business  was  slack  he  was  not  above  entertaining  the  clerks 
with  stories  of  his  experiences  during  the  Mexican  campaign. 
These  stories,  coming  as  they  did  from  a  living  hero,  so  stim- 
ulated Don  that  when  he  returned  to  his  attic  he  repeated  them 
to  Bert,  and  dreamed  of  them  so  vividly  that,  not  infrequently, 
he  engaged  in  mortal  conflicts  with  his  bedclothes. 

One  evening  he  entered  Bert's  room  with  far  more  conse- 
quence than  he  had  ever  assumed  as  Grand  Keyman  of  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake  Club,  and  was  no  sooner  seated  than  he  said 
with  evident  exultation:  "A  fine  carriage  with  a  liveried 
coachman  drove  up  to  our  curb  this  afternoon  and  landed  two 
men  for  our  store.  When  I  opened  the  door  for  them,  one  of 
them,  a  magnificent  giant  of  a  fellow,  asked  for  Colonel  Wick- 
worth.  When  I  escorted  them  to  the  counting  room  they 
made  a  sensation.  The  big  man  was  General  Winfield  Scott, 
and  the  other  was  General  Caleb  Gushing.  You  are  always 
boasting  of  the  big  writers  who  go  to  your  store;  now  what 
do  you  say  to  Scott  and  Gushing  for  big  fish?" 

"Say!"  was  the  unabashed  answer;  "I  say  that  the  pen  is 
mightier  than  the  sword.  And  when  the  fame  of  your  gener- 
als goes  with  the  glitter  of  their  swords  and  fades  with  the 
gilding  of  their  shoulder  straps,  the  names  of  our  authors  will 
still  be  shining  like  the  stars.  But  I  must  congratulate  you  on 
having  seen  two  great  men ;  it  is  something  to  remember  and 
to  be  proud  of." 

"The  idea  of  being  under  the  same  roof  with  them  nearly 
lifted  me  from  my  feet.  I  don't  believe  that  you  are  half  the 
hero  worshipper  that  I  am.  I'll  admit  that  you!  pen-men  are 
greater  than  my  warriors,  but  the  sight  of  them  doesn't  stir 
the  blood  like  the  sight  of  such  a  man  as  General  Scott,  whose 
deeds  have  been  told  to  you  by  one  who  was  a  witness  of 
them." 


II 


U 


^mm 


K 


P^: 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 

'"Well,  I  will  frankly  admit,  that  I  should  like  to  have  been 
in  your  store  when  those  two  men  were  there,  for  I  always 
feel  as  if  great  men  are  much  greater  than  anything  that  can 
be  written  about  them.  I  am  glad  for  the  colonel's  sake,  that 
they  called  upon  him.     Did  they  stay  long?" 

"No;  they  soon  took  the  colonel  with  them,  and  all  three 
went  away  looking  very  much  pleased.  It  must  be  a  great 
thing  for  old  comrades  in  arms  to  get  together  again.  It 
means  another  treat  for  us  at  the  store,  for  the  colonel  will  be 
sure  to  have  some  new  incidents  to  tell  the  first  chance  he 
can  get." 

Bert  was  obtaining  a  new  insight  into  Don's  character,  and 
respecting  his  hero  worship  tendencies,  and  hoping  to  afford 
him  a  new  pleasure,  he  said:  "Don,  suppose  that  we  go  to 
Cambridge  next  Sunday  and  take  a  look  at  Longfellow's 
house?  Besides  being  the  home  of  our  greatest  poet,  you 
know  it  was  Washington's  Headquarters  during  the  revolu- 
tionary war." 

"That  would  be  a  delightful  thing  to  do  if  it  were  right," 
Don  replied. 

"Right!"  exclaimed  Bert,  with  a  start,  he  not  having  yel 
learned  the  depth  of  his  chum's  old  fashioned  Sunday-keeping 
notions.  "You  don't  mean  to  intimate  that  while  it  is  right 
for  us  to  go  up  to  the  Common  on  Sunday  afternoon,  it  would 
be  wrong  for  us  to  go  to  Cambridge  because  it  is  a  little  more 
distant  than  the  Common?  We  have  no  other  day  for  going, 
and  seeing  that  we  propose  to  make  it  a  patriotic  pilgrimage, 
I  do  not  believe  that  God  will  split  our  heads  for  going. 
Going  will  be  as  good  as  a  sermon  for  you." 

After  some  hesitation  and  no  little  conflict  between  his 
desires  and  his  convictions,  Don  consented  to  the  proposal. 
They  reached  Cambridge  just  as  the  morning  congregations 


iibimVh 


"^r-T^-^-T-rr 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


109 


lave  been 

1 1  always 

that  can 

sake,  that 

all  three 
J  a  great 
gain.  It 
el  will  be 
hance  he 

icter,  and 
to  afford 
v.'e  go  to 
igfellow's 
>oet,  you 
e  revolu- 

e  right," 

ving  yet 
-keeping 

is  right 
it  would 
tie  more 
r  going, 
rrimage, 

going. 

een  his 
roposal. 
gations 


came  out  of  the  churches.  The  streets  were  filled  with  people, 
the  sight  of  whom  revived  Don's  scruples  with  such  force  that 
he  said  to  his  companion:  "I  can't  stand  this!  Let's  take  an 
alley  and  get  out  of  the  crowd.  The  dust  on  our  shoes  and 
trousers  will  make  them  think  that  we  are  a  pair  of  regular 
Sabbath-breakers." 

"You  poor,  innocent,  white-breasted  bird!  Hasn't  your 
conscience  grown  its  skin  yet?"  Bert  exclaimed,  with  some 
annoyance.  "We  have  no  more  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  our- 
selves than  the  people  have  for  returning  from  the  churches. 
There  is  small  danger  of  you  falling  into  the  bottomless  pit 
until  you  become  a  good  deal  wickeder  than  you  are  now. 
Come  along,"  And  he  pushed  ahead  so  aggressively  that 
there  was  no  alternative  but  for  Don  to  follow. 

Don's  uncomfortable  feelings  were  dissipated  when  he 
reached  the  residence  of  the  poet,  an  old,  wooden-roomy  house, 
destitute  of  all  architectural  pretension,  yet  so  grandly  shaded 
by  elms  and  so  beautifully  fringed  with  shrubbery  it  made  an 
ideal  poet's  nest.  While  the  boy-pilgrims  stood  outside  of  the 
grounds  reverently  regarding  the  place  made  sacred  by  .so 
many  noble  associations,  the  poet  came  down  one  of  the  walks 
bareheaded,  and,  recognizing  them,  shook  hands  with  them 
and  cordially  invited  them  to  roam  over  the  place  at  :heir  will. 

Longfellow  was  below  medium  height,  yet  he  was  so  broad 
shouldered  that  he  was  commanding  in  his  physical  appear- 
ance. He  had  a  strikingly  beautiful  face,  enlivened  by  deep 
dark  eyes  which  glimmered  beneath  his  high  brow  and  pro- 
fusion of  dark  hair  like  lights  from  a  great  depth. 

Bert  explained  their  mission  and  offered  excuses  for  taking 
Sunday  to  execute  it.  "What  other  day  could  you  take?"  said 
the  poet  in  his  low  melodious  tones,  and  showing  his  sympathy 
with  their  desires.    "Shop  boys  like  you  have  scant  time  for 


i 


MHBMAicktfiM 


104 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


i. 
I' 


pilgrimages  on  week  days.  You  are  to  be  commended  for 
coming  to  see  the  house  nade  celebrated  by  the  presence  of 
Washington.  Come  with  me  and  I  will  show  you  Adhere  he 
planned  the  campaigns  that  led  to  the  success  of  the  revolution 
and  gave  birth  to  a  new  nation." 

Although  they  protested  against  intruding  upon  his  privacy 
he  led  them  into  the  house  and  in  the  most  unconstrained  way 
showed  them  Washington's  room,  and  the  relics  connected 
with  his  stay  under  the  roof.  Not  content  with  showing  them 
over  the  house  and  more  particularly  through  his  study,  he 
pressed  them  to  remain  for  luncheon.  But  seeing  that"  they 
were  embarrassed,  and  learning  that  they  had  their  lunch  with 
them  and  that  they  had  set  their  hearts  upon  eating  it  beneath 
the  shade  of  the  Washington  Elm,  h;  put  on  his  hat  and 
showed  them  over  the  entire  grounds. 

His  Evangeline  was  then  fresh  in  the  mind  of  the  public. 
Bert  had  a  much  prized  copy  of  the  poem  which  had  been 
presented  to  him  by  the  poet  himself  not  long  brfore  the  time 
of  their  visit.  The  scene  of  the  story  being  laid  in  Nova  Scotia, 
Don  had  read  it  with  great  avidity,  a  fact  which  Bert  made 
known  to  the  poet  with  no  little  pride. 

Smiling  with  unaffected  interest,  Longfellow  said:  "Then 
I  have  been  entertaining  an  angel  unawares — ^two  of  them  in 
fact.  Perhaps  I  can  learn  something  more  about  the  wonder- 
ful peninsula  which  has  already  engrossed  so  much  of  my 
attention.  There  at  the  foot  of  that  elm  is  a  seat  where  I  have 
thought  out  not  a  few  of  my  poems;  let  us  sit  there  while  we 
talk  of  Nova  Scotia." 

He  was  acquainted  with  the  personal  history  of  Constance 
La  Tour,  and  her  reckless  and  eccentric  husband,  and  soon  dis- 
covered that  Don  knew  much  of  the  locality  where  they  spent 
a  portion  of  their  lives.    With  the  eagerness  of  a  child  listen- 


i'!'     ir 


ended  for 
■esence  of 
where  he 
evolution 

is  prnacy 
lined  way 
:onnected 
'ing  them 
study,  he 
that"  they 
inch  with 
t  beneath 
hat  and 

le  public, 
had  been 

■  the  time 
/a  Scotia, 
ert  made 

:    "Then 

■  them  in 
wonder- 

h  of  my 
re  I  have 
while  we 

onstance 
soon  dis- 
ey  spent 
!d  listen- 


i- 


:»  •■■ 


;!i  • 


r*,-^ij:--fci^>r.-i:  '■-'t*-.JKe«ttM5^y  •♦iJ- 


^^.'■j-.----:^r^,<7-vt'^^,^^^'i^lf^Smm^^^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


106 


Jng  to  a  fairy  story,  he  listened  to  the  description  Don  gave  of 
Port  La  Tour  and  the  surrounding  scenery. 

"And  so  you  have  been  a  resident  of  Shelburne  County?" 
he  said  toward  the  close,  "and  you  have  doubtless  seen  Shel- 
burne, the  famous  old  shire  town  which  has  such  a  strangely 
pathetic  origin  and  history,  The  Ten  Thousand  Tory 
Refugees  who  fled  from  the  younp  United  States  and  carried 
with  them  a  thousand  slaves  and  expended  millions  of  money 
with  the  intention  of  founding  the  metropolis  of  the  new 
empire,  were  a  sadly  disappointed  people  when,  at  the  end  of 
two  years  they  abandoned  their  little  city  to  desolation,  and, 
impoverished  and  wretched,  returned  to  their  native  land. 
Some  day  some  author  will  acquire  fame  by  doing  justice  to  a 
story  which,  in  many  respects  is  more  touching  and  eventful 
than  the  story  of  Evangeline.  Tell  me  how  Shelburne  looked 
when  you  were  last  there?" 

By  asking  many  leading  questions,  he  elicited  from  Don  an 
account  of  the  long  nine-mile  landlocked  harbor,  and  of  the 
wild  country  adjacent  to  it.  And  he  was  almost  incredulous 
when  told  that  only  a  few  of  the  old  brick  buildings  remained, 
and  that  even  those  were  unoccupied  and  rapidly  going  to 
decay.  He  was  scarcely  prepared  to  believe  that  such  a 
romantic  beginning  could  end  in  such  a  bleak  reality. 

While  on  the  way  back  to  Boston,  Don  said  with  consider- 
able feeling:  "Well,  I  shall  never  forget  the  pilgrimage  to 
Longfellow's  house;  I  could  not  have  been  better  pleased  if  I  had 
been  to  Abbotsford  and  had  seen  Sir  Walter  Scott  himself." 

Bert  was  gratified  to  hear  him  speak  with  so  much  satis- 
faction, but  unable  to  restrain  his  native  impishness,  said: 
"To  make  up  for  our  wickedness,  we  shall  have  to  go  to 
Father  Taylor's  this  evening  and  get  him  to  shrive  our  souls; 
that  is,  if  your  conscience  still  troubles  you." 


-r-ntria'^Hrtft-sS-j?- 


.,,,  ■■■  „^^M  fiimyiiy^y  . 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


"We  will  go  to  the  Mariners'  Rcthel  to  hear  Father  Taylor, 
but  Cambridge  has  tnadc  no  wounds  of  conscience  that  will 
need  doctoring  by  him.  It  would  be  just  like  him  to  pat  us 
on  the  back  and  call  us  good  boys  for  going  to  see  the  poet. 
Although  he  is  as  eccentric  as  old  Peter  Piper,  he  is  as  gentle 
and  as  sensible  as  Longfellow  himself." 

Not  long  after  the  Cambridge  pilgrimage,  Don  had  another 
experier  which  tended  to  exalt  him  to  the  upper  regions. 
The  arrivf  of  the  Swedish  singer,  Jf'nny  Lind,  who  was  then 
at  the  height  of  her  popularity,  produced  scenes  of  enthusiasm 
in  the  country  that  have  been  rarely  equalled.  In  the  course 
of  her  professional  tour  she  visited  Boston.  She  reached  the 
city  in  a  driving  rain  storm,  notwithstanding  which,  her  innu- 
merable admirers  took  the  horses  from  her  coach  and  drew  her 
from  the  depot  to  her  hotel.  From  the  Wickworth  store  Don 
saw  the  crowd  fill  the  street  from  curb  to  curb  and  as  far  up 
and  down  its  length  as  the  eye  could  see.  The  colonel,  unable 
to  restrain  his  enthusiasm,  stepped  to  the  door  and  shouted 
with  the  rest  till  he  was  hoarse,  and  his  example  encouraged 
Don  to  join  in  the  tumult  to  the  full  measure  of  his  noise- 
making  power. 

As  in  New  York,  so  in  Boston,  the  first  choice  of  tickets 
rose  to  upwards  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  a  single  ticket. 
This  was  not,  however,  so  much  a  mark  of  appreciation  as  it 
was  a  desire  for  notoriety  on  the  part  of  the  purchaser,  who 
belonged  to  that  class  of  advertisers  who  would  post  their  bills 
on  the  throne  of  the  Almighty  if  they  could  get  near  enough 
to  do  it.  Mid  all  tlie  excitement  P.  T.  Barnum,  the  Beelzebub 
of  advertisers,  under  whose  auspices  Miss  Lind  came  to  this 
country,  smiled  serenely,  and  coolly  measured  the  worth  of 
the  prevailing  epidemic  by  the  number  of  dollars  it  added  to 
his  already  large  fortune.  •>  ;    ■     . 


•') '  -iiiiii»'*y*^"- 


Taylor, 
>mt  will 

pat  us 
He  poet. 

gentle 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


107 


When  Bert  reached  the  attic  on  the  evening  of  the  concert, 
he  was  as  insane  as  everybody  else  and  ho  proposed  that  Don 
and  he  should  join  the  nniltitudc  of  people  that  would  be  sure 
to  gather  around  Fitchburg  Hall,  where  the  concert  was  to  be 
given. 

"If  we  cannot  afford  to  pay  five  hundred  dollars  for  a  ticket 
we  may  be  able  to  steal  a  few  notes  of  her  singing,"  said  he, 
"if  we  '•-1  get  near  enough  to  the  hall  to  catch  what  comes 
through  the  windows." 

When  they  reached  the  hall  the  streets  were  packed  with  a 
struggling  mass  of  humanity,  but  notwithstanding  this  the 
boys  managed  at  no  small  risk  of  their  limbs  to  get  within  a 
few  steps  of  the  great  railway  hall.  Their  wrath  waxed  hot 
when  they  found  that  Barnum,  in  order  to  prevent  Jenny  Lir;d 
from  being  heard  in  the  streets,  had  ordered  that  every  window 
in  the  building  should  be  kept  closed.  Many  in  the  crowd 
shared  in  their  indignation  and  four  young  men  standing  near 
Don  and  Bert  picked  missiles  from  the  street  and  showered 
them  through  the  windows.  The  rash  act  would  have  pro- 
duced a  serious  panic  within  the  building  had  not  Jenny  Lind, 
with  great  presence  of  mind,  counteracted  the  terror  by  begin- 
ning one  of  her  most  captivating  songs.  But  the  mischief 
makers  had  accomplished  their  aim,  for  through  the  broken 
windows  her  singing  came  clear  and  strong  to  the  infinite 
delight  of  the  outsiders,  who  applauded  and  encored  her  with 
as  much  enthusiasm  as  those  within  the  hall. 

Bert  recounted  the  incident  with  great  satisfaction  to  his 
mother.  "When,"  said  he,  "Barnum  becomes  so  selfish  and 
mean  that  he  is  ready  to  smother  an  audience  in  foul  air  for 
the  sake  of  preventing  the  music  from  leaking  out  of  the  build- 
ing, it  is  rime  for  Boston  people  to  show  what  sort  of  stuff 
they  are  made  of.     The  fellows  who  broke  those  windows 


•  '^'"WWJWf'^BI^'W^BRSWf* . 


106 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


i.-. 


must  have  been  desccndrntd  of  tliose  who  threw  the  tea  into 
the  harbor.  But  yon  ought  to  have  heard  her  sing!  No  one 
can  sing  like  inat  unless  she  has  a  good  deal  of  the  angel  in 
her."  • 

Father  Taylor  had  been  signally  kind  to  Swedish  sailors, 
and  Jenny  Lind  had  become  aware  of  the  fact.  She  showed 
her  gratitude  for  his  attention  to  her  countrymen  by  sending 
a  liberal  contribution  for  his  work,  and  by  attending  his  ser- 
vice the  Sunday  morning  following  the  concert.  The  Mar- 
iners' Bethel  was  but  a  few  steps  from  the  widow's  dwelling, 
and  Don,  in  company  with  the  family,  was  present.  It  having 
become  known  before  the  close  of  the  service  that  Jenny  Lind 
was  among  the  worshippers,  several  Swedes,  when  the  congre- 
gation was  dismissed,  pressed  forward  to  pay  their  respects 
to  their  distinguished  countrywoman.  The  example  became 
contagious,  and  among  the  first  to  shake  hands  with  her  were 
Don  and  Bert,  who  were  smilingly  received,  and  graciously 
commended  for  being  in  the  House  of  God. 

Although  Jenny  Lind  would  not  be  called  a  beautiful 
woman,  Bert,  on  returning  to  the  house,  had  much  to  say 
about  her  golden  hair  and  deep  blue  eyes,  her  pretty  lips  and 
pearly  teeth,  her  fresh  complexion  and  graceful  b'^aring.  Don 
was  chiefly  impressed  by  her  amiability,  and  with  an  ardor  that 
equalled  Bert's,  he  declared  that  she  looked  like  an  angel  who 
was  not  more  than  twenty-four  hours  from  Heaven. 

Such  praises  as  these  were  altogether  too  strong  for  Nora's 
patience,  and  pouting  her  lips,  she  said  with  a  touch  of  femin- 
ine jealousy:  "Then  why  does  she  let  Barnum  make  such  an 
elephant  of  her?" 

With  such  a  little  Miss  Daniel  as  this  come  to  judgment 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said  in  her  presence,  and  the 
boys  fled  to  their  attic,  where  they  could  worship  their  new 
divinity  to  their  hearts'  content. 


tea  into 

No  one 

angel  in 

sailors, 
showed 
sending 
Ills  scr- 
le  Mar- 
welling, 
t  having 
ny  Lind 
congre- 
respects 
became 
ler  were 
aciously 

>eautiful 
to  say 
lips  and 
.  Don 
lor  that 
fel  who 

Nora's 
femin- 
uch  an 

Igment 
nd  the 
ir  new 


CHAPTER   XI. 


DKBP   WATSR   SOUNDINGS. 

Colonel  Wickwor*'  was  a  bachelor.  That  a  man  of  means, 
old  enough  to  know  iiis  mind,  and  one  who  had  worn  shoulder 
straps  upon  real  battlefields,  should  be  single,  was  one  of  the 
things  that  Don  could  not  satisfactorily  fathom.  True,  the 
colonel  was  as  homely  as  a  ram's  horn,  but  Don  knew  that 
that  of  itself  was  no  bar  to  matrimony,  for  he  had  known 
instances  where  the  homeliest  of  men  had  taken  their  pick 
from  the  handsomest  of  women.  As  for  himi;elf,  he  loved  the 
colonel,  not  for  his  looks,  but  for  his  qualities,  and  he  saw  no 
reason  why  some  of  the  surplus  female  population  of  Boston 
should  not  exercise  the  same  discrimi:iation. 

He  knew  that  the  colonel,  so  far  from  being  in  favor  of  the 
abolition  of  the  gentle  sex,  had  in  his  hearing  expressed  his 
profound  respect  and  admiration  for  all  womankind,  including 
Eve,  notwithstanding  she  had  been  so  long  dead.  He  was, 
indeed,  a  firm  believer  in  matrimony,  and  believed  with  Solo- 
mon that  he  who  iindeth  a  wife,  finds  a  good  thing.  Don  had 
also  heard  the  colonel  say  that  families  were  good  "things," 
and  he  thought  that,  notwithstanding  boys  and  girls  were  so 
common,  they  were  the  most  wonderful  "things"  under  the 
sun. 

Boys  and  girls  who  knew  the  colonel  knew  that  he  was  a 
perfect  love  of  a  man.  The  colonel's  young  relatives  not  infre- 
quently dropped  into  the  store  just  for  the  sake  of  getting  a 

(109) 


■ 


110 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


look  at  him;  and  one  mite  cf  a  niece,  after  receiving  a  box  of 
bon-bons  from  the  ex-soldier,  testified  in  confidence  to  Don 
that  her  dear  old  uncle  was  as  good  r.s  anybody  that  ever  went 
to  Heaven,  or  came  from  it,  either,  for  that  matter. 

Then,  why  was  he  single?  Ah,  Don,  you  would  have  saved 
yourself  needless  worry  if  you  had  said:  "He  remains  single 
because  he  doesn't  want  to  become  double."  That  would  have 
been  the  simplest  solution. 

Colonel  Wickworth  had  become  much  attached  to  Don, 
and  he  showed  his  liking  by  giving  him  tickets  to  concerts, 
lectures,  first  class  theatrical  entertainments,  and — circuses, 
also.  Liking  Bert  almost  as  well  as  he  did  Don,  it  invariably 
happened  that,  although  he  kept  himself  single,  he  made  his 
tickets  double  so  that  the  juvenile  Damon  might  have  the  com- 
pany of  his  juvenile  Pythias.  The  colonel's  wits  were  as 
bright  as  his  sword,  and  he  knew  that  these  two  birds  of  a 
feather  would  be  happiest  together. 

The  colonel  was  an  intimate  friend  and  a  faithful  parish- 
ioner of  Theodore  Parker,  at  that  time  the  most  celebrated 
preacher  in  Boston,  or  New  England.  It  must,  however,  be 
confessed  that  one  reason  why  the  colonel  stuck  to  this 
preacher  was  because  the  preacher  obstinately  stuck  to  himself. 
That  is  to  say,  he  would  not  let  other  people  do  his  thinking 
for  him,  nor  cut  his  thread  to  suit  their  stitches  instead  of  his 
own,  and  consequently  he  was  the  best  abused  man  of  his  day. 

Desiring  that  Don  should  sharpen  his  wits  by  rubbing 
them  on  Parker's  whetstone,  one  Saturday  afternoon  he  said 
to  him:  "If  you  and  Bert  will  come  to  my  church  to-morrow 
morning,  you  shall  sit  with  me,  and  after  service  1  will  intro- 
duce you  to  the  greatest  man  in  the  United  States." 

It  so  happened  that  the  fame  of  this  preacher  had  reached 
to  Barrington  itself,  notwithstanding  it  was  so  far  from  ♦•!? 


a  box  of 
to  Don 
;ver  went 

ive  saved 
ns  single 
Juld  have 

to  Don, 
concerts, 
circuses, 
ivariably 
iiade  his 
the  corn- 
were  as 
irds  of  a 

I  parish- 
!lebrated 
ever,  be 
to  this 
himself, 
hinking 
d  of  his 
his  day. 
rubbing 
he  said 
norrow 
I  intro- 

■eached 

jm  t':; 


AIR    GASTLB    DON 


111 


maddening  haunts  of  men — so  remote  from  Boston,  that  nest 
of  notions,  and  "hub  of  the  universe."  Even  Peter  Piper  had 
heard  so  much  about  the  man  and  his  heresies  that  the  barest 
mention  of  his  name  stirred  all  his  pickled  peppers  to  their 
profoundest  depths. 

Don's  father  not  only  preached  in  favor  of  what  he  believed, 
but  also  against  what  he  didn't  believe,  and  with  the  oddest 
effect  sometimes.  For  instance.  He  once  denounced  card 
playing  with  so  much  graphic  detail  that  Don  and  one  of  his 
companions  straightway  bought  a  pack  of  cards  and  hiding 
themselves  in  a  hay  mow  tried  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the 
iniquity  hidden  in  the  game.  But  so  many  compunctions 
interfered  with  their  use  of  the  forbidden  fruit  that,  becoming 
afraid  of  the  pasteboards  they  concealed  them  in  the  long  grass 
growing  at  the  foot  of  a  headstone  in  the  village  graveyard. 
Here  the  sexton  found  them  while  digging  a  grave  near  by, 
and  his  horror  was  intensified  by  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that 
the  man  whose  remains  crumbled  beneath  the  sod,  was,  during 
his  mortal  life,  the  latter  part  of  it  at  least,  a  confirmed  card- 
player.  The  sexton  burned  the  pack  to  ashes  and  scattered 
the  ashes  to  the  wind.  Don's  father  was  informed  of  the  find- 
ing, and  as  he  was  ignorant  of  the  offenders,  he  aimed  another 
columbiad  of  a  sermon  against  the  particular  devils  that  went 
about  in  pasteboard  suits  and  disguises. 

The  denunciation  of  Theodre  Parker  from  the  village  pul- 
pits made  Don  familiar  with  his  name  and  his  particular  fame, 
and  begot  a  strong  desire  to  hear  and  see  him.  He  scarcely 
knew  what  a  heretic  was,  yet,  having  read  Fox's  Book  of 
Martyrs  when  he  was  lying  sick  of  the  scarlet  fever,  he  had  the 
impression  that  heretics  made  good  kindling  wood  for  those 
who  kept  themselves  warm  by  making  it  hot  for  others. 

When,  therefore,  the  colonel  invited  him  to  hear  Parker, 


112 


AIR    GASTLB    DON 


he  was  eager  to  improve  his  opportunity.  The  distance 
between  him  and  his  father's  pulpit  was  equivalent  to  the  con- 
cealment afforded  by  a  barn  and  a  mow  of  hay.  He  wanted 
to  drop  his  lead  into  the  sea  of  Parkerism  for  the  sake  of 
finding  where  the  bottom  was. 

The  Maeonion  congregation  astonished  him;  it  was 
immense,  and  was  composed  chiefly  of  young  men.  Parker 
astonished  him  also.  He  almost  expected  to  see  horns  sur- 
mounting his  high  brow  and  peeping  above  his  blue  eyes  from 
among  the  blonde  hair  that  thickly  covered  his  stately  head. 
Although  the  speaker's  voice  was  so  richly  melodious,  and  his 
words  so  glowingly  eloquent  and  pervasively  sympathetic,  Don 
vigilantly  watched  for  something  wicked.  He  v/as  fain  to 
confess,  however,  that  this  devil,  at  least,  had  been  painted 
blacker  than  he  really  was.  His  prayers  were  not  alien  to  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  nor  his  sentiments,  to  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  Yet  notwithstanding  the  flash  of  glittering  wings 
which  took  the  place  of  diabolical  horns,  Don  grew  uneasy  to 
'  'link  that  he  was  getting  in  such  an  awful  place  as  the  Maeon- 
ion and  listening  to  such  an  awful  man  as  Parker  was  reputed 
to  be. 

Being  as  good  as  his  word  the  colonel  introduced  the  two 
boys  to  his  pastor  and  friend  at  the  close  of  the  service.  And 
to  the  utter  confusion  of  all  of  Don's  preconceived  notions  and 
opinions  of  the  man,  Theodore  Parker  insistently  invited  the 
boys  to  visit  his  home  for  the  purpose  of  enjoying  a  sight  of 
his  great  library  of  rare  works,  and  still  more  valuable  collec- 
tion of  curios  and  famous  works  of  art.  That  invitation  the 
boys  subsequently  accepted  to  their  great  satisfaction  and 
profit. 

An  immediate  reckoning,  however,  followed  upon  their 
morning's  misdemeanor.    When  they  reached  home,  Nora, 


■  91 '.1 


le 


distance 
the  con- 
wanted 
sake  of 


it    was 
•    Parker 
lorns  sur- 
eyes  from 
tely  head, 
s,  and  his 
letic,  Don 
s  fain  to 
n  painted 
ien  to  the 
n  on  the 
rag  wings 
uneasy  to 
e  Maeon- 
s  reputed 

I  the  two 
ce.  And 
tions  and 
vited  the 
sight  of 
e  collec- 
ition  the 
ion  and 

5n  their 
!,  Nora, 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 

who  had  almost  tearfully  protested  against  the  sin  of  going  to 
hear  such  a  heretic,  met  them  with  withering  reproaches 
which,  during  their  absence  she  had  carefully  and  piously 
framed  in  exact  scripti;ral  phraseology  for  greater  effect. 
Being  an  orthodox  little  soul,  she  believed  that  no  one  could 
come  in  contact  with  pitch  •  without  being  defiled.  She  felt 
convinced  that  the  boys  had  been  actually  bathing  in  a  sea  of 
pitch  and  that,  therefore,  to  use  the  words  used  concerning 
Noah's  Ark,  they  were  "pitched  both  within  and  without." 

Instead  of  being  cast  down  by  her  onslaught,  the  boys 
began  to  praise  the  preaching  of  the  man  against  whose  influ- 
ence she  had  warned  them  with  so  much  zeal.  Not  content 
with  this,  they  declared  that  they  would  take  her  with  them  to 
the  same  place  on  the  following  Sunday  and  allow  her  to  judge 
of  the  preaching  for  herself.  She  was  so  visibly  agitated  by 
this  hardness  of  heart,  which  served  to  confirm  her  worst 
apprehensions,  that  Bert  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  vainly 
attempted  to  kiss  away  her  tears  and  her  fears. 

The  distress  of  the  little  saint  was  so  unequivocally  mani- 
fested that  it  aroused  Don's  conscience  as  effectually  as  it  was 
aroused  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  and — last  game  of  cards. 
He  could  not,  however,  hide  his  tiansgression  as  easily  as  he 
hid  the  cards,  and  therefore  he  did  the  next  best  thing,  he  hid 
himself  in  his  attic,  where  Bert  soon  joined  him,  glad  to  escape 
from  Nora's  accusing;  eyes  and  tongue. 

"That  sister  of  mine  is  a  nuisance!"  said  Bert,  although 
there  was  not  enough  annoyance  revealed  in  his  manner  to 
give  the  proper  emphasis  to  his  words.  "She  would  make  a 
regular  John  the  Baptist  of  me  before  I  could  say  Jack  Robin- 
son, if  I  would  let  her.  I  don't  believe  it's  right  for  a  mere 
gallon  of  a  girl  to  be  carting  around  a  barrelfull  of  goodness. 
She's  got  it  into  her  head  that  Parker  is  a  Philistine  of  the 


m 


-■-| 


W 


Iistines — a 
though  her  heart  is  naturally  as  tender  as  a  ripe  peach,  I 
beheve  she'd  pray  Parker  into  his  grave  before  to-morrow 
night  if  she  could." 

"She  is  a  brick,  or  rather  what  Saint  Pau'  would  call  a 
'lively  stone',"  said  Don,  sharply,  in  her  defense;  "and  if  I 
were  a  man,  and  she  were  a  woman,  and  I  knew  how  to  make 
love,  I  would  ask  her  to  marry  me  before  I  went  to  sleep." 

"Marry  you!"  exclaimed  Bert,  at  the  same  time  laughing 
at  the  blush  that  mantled  Don's  cheek  at  the  mere  mention  of 
love.  "Marry  you!  A  precious  team  you  would  make;  you, 
with  your  scruples  of  conscience,  and  she,  with  her  piles  of 
bigotry." 

A  tap  at  the  door  interrupting  further  comment,  Bert 
admitted  Nora,  remarking  pertinently:  "Mention  the  angels 
and  you  will  hear  the  rustling  of  their  wings." 

"That  doesn't  apply  to  me,"  she  replied  penitently,  yet  not 
daring  to  say  the  other  half  of  the  proverb  lest  the  mentioning 
involved  should  provoke  some  fresh  freak  of  mischief. 

She  had  Saturday's  paper  with  her,  and  from  it  read  a 
notice  of  a  public  meeting  to  be  held  in  Faneuil  Hall  on  Mon- 
day evening.  Boston  was  in  a  ferment  over  city  corruptions 
which  were  aided  and  indirectly  abetted  by  the  city  fathers. 
The  notice  called  for  the  friends  of  municipal  righteousness  to 
assemble  in  force  for  the  voicing  of  their  indignation.  This 
little  wisp  of  a  woman — meaning  Nora — had  a  penchant  for 
righteous  indignation  of  any  kind,  and  glad  to  find  something 
that  would  serve  as  a  compromise  between  her  and  the  boys, 
she  smilingly  said :  "I  will  forgive  you  for  going  to  the  Mae- 
onion  this  morning  if  you  will  go  to  Faneuil  Hall  to-morrow 
night.    I  know  that  you  will  go,  for  the  paper  says  that  Alder- 


■aa** 


naiai 


ilifil  An 


i'ii»i«irii-i)tiiitr''i 


? 


less.     And, 

»e  peach,  I 

to-morrow 

culd  call  a 
"and  if  I 
3w  to  make 
)  sleep." 
le  laughing 
mention  of 
make;  you, 
ler  piles  of 

ment,  Bert 
the  angels 

Itly,  yet  not 
mentioning 
ief. 

1  it  read  a 
ill  on  Mon- 
:orruptions 
ity  fathers. 
:ousness  to 
tion.  This 
inchant  for 
something 
i  the  boys, 
0  the  Mae- 
to-morrow 
that  Alder- 


TOWP' 


|l.i>'W^."i 


■w-^wn— ^'itri'ii'Sf  g  I  ►WW  u  ■  *,  VHtMilff^!^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


115 


man  Lammels — the  man  you  hate  so  much — declares  that  he 
will  be  on  hand  with  a  crowd  to  break  up  the  meeting." 

Bert  clapped  his  hands,  saying:  "Our  forgiveness  is 
already  assured,  for  Don  and  I  made  up  our  minds  last  night 
that  we  would  go  to  that  meeting  to  see  the  fun." 

"The  fun!"  she  exclaimed  indignantly;  "if  that  is  all  you 
go  for  you  would  better  stay  at  home." 

"We  are  going  for  righteousness  sake,"  said  Don,  more 
diplomatically. 

"That  sounds  better.  You  care  more  for  the  right  than 
you  do  for  the  fun,  while  Bert  is  just  the  other  way,"  she  said, 
at  the  same  time  beaming  her  approval  upon  Don  so  warmly 
that  he  became  roundly  ashamed  because  his  motives  did  not 
reach  to  the  height  of  his  words. 

Don  had  long  desired  to  see  the  inside  of  the  Cradle  of 
Liberty,  as  Faneuil  Hall  is  called,  because  of  its  connection 
with  the  exciting  events  of  the  nation's  earliest  history,  and 
because  in  it  were  first  heard  so  many  of  the  inspiring  senti- 
ments which  subsequently  became  embodied  in  the  nation's 
destiny.  He  now  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  hall  when 
it  was  filled  with  a  characteristic  Boston  public  meeting.  The 
fact  that  Colonel  Wickworth  was  already  named  as  the  chair- 
man of  the  meeting  increased  the  boys'  interest  in  the  proposed 
gathering.  With  an  old  soldier  in  the  chair  there  would  be 
little  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  rowdies  on  the  floor. 

When  Peter  Faneuil  gave  the  hall  that  bears  his  name  to 
Boston,  it  was  intended  that  the  lower  part  should  be  used  as 
a  market  for  meats  for  the  body,  and  the  upper  for  meats  for 
the  mind.  The  two  objects  have  never  been  lost  sight  of,  and 
consequently  the  building,  though  large,  is  a  two-storied  piece 
of  architecture  so  severely  square  and  plain  that  nobody  would 
ever  think  of  going  into  ecstasies  over  it. 


116 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


The  interior  is  as  plain  as  the  exterior,  with  galleries 
extending  around  three  sides,  and  supported  by  pillars  that  are 
more  substantial  than  beautiful.  The  main  floor  provides  only 
for  standing  room,  although  ascending  tiers  at  the  sides  enable 
occupants  to  look  over  one  anothers'  heads. 

On  entering  the  hall,  jvhich  was  then  about  two-thirds  full, 
Don  immediately  became  interested  in  the  numerous  old  por- 
traits hanging  upon  the  wall  in  the  rear  of  the  platform.  They 
said  as  plainly  as  paint  and  oil  could  make  them  say  it: 
"Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty." 

When  the  colonel  mounted  the  platform  he  saw  the  boys 
standing  at  the  foot,  and  immediately  ordered  them  to  seats 
back  of  his  chair,  where  they  would  be  safe  from  the  crush  of 
the  crowd  which  by  this  time  had  packed  the  hall  to  over- 
flowing. 

When  Marshal  Tukey,  the  speaker  and  hero  of  the  evening, 
arose  to  speak,  the  tumult  that  greeted  him  indicated  strongly 
and  violently  opposing  forces. 

The  speaker  was  a  "character."  Once  a  great  gambler  and 
a  notoriously  fast  man,  he  had  turned  squarely  from  his  evil 
ways  and  had  so  commended  himself  to  the  confidence  of  the 
public  that  he  became  the  city  marshal.  Having  been  a  great 
rogue  himself,  he  was  well  versed  in  the  art  of  catching  rogues, 
as  the  police  authorities  of  all  the  great  cities  well  knew.  But 
his  zeal  for  rogue- catching  outran  the  support  of  the  city 
fathers  who,  while  they  admitted  that  law  was  designed  for  the 
suppression  of  crime,  were  not  willing  to  assume  the  respon- 
sibility of  executing  it.  Hence  Tukey  was  discharged,  and 
consequently  righteous  Boston — including  many  sinners — 
was  up  in  arms,  and  Tukey  was  there  in  Faneuil  Hall  to 
inflame  their  righteousness  to  greater  intensity  by  making  hot 
revelations  of  official  corruptions. 


:* 


1^,  ^lJ■'V,^J,j,'.^V»|J^,w^l.|"  iijPjLJ.jiLji  Ji.»i<<»jl     ,  ii,iaiwm,.|  ,H.l'ii._  ,^^!ui.i^  ■ f  m     I   II  n.»  I.IWI..  .  .1.1  n  II II     usiMr,^ 


galleries 

s  that  are 

vkXts,  only 

es  enable 

birds  full, 
5  old  por- 
in.  They 
n  say  it: 

the  boys 
1  to  seats 
:  crush  of 

to  over- 

:  evening, 
1  strongly 

mbler  and 
n  his  evil 
ice  of  the 
!n  a  great 
g  rogues, 
ew.     But 

the  city 
;d  for  the 
e  respon- 
ged,  and 
sinners — 

Hall  to 
iking  hot 


AIR   OA«<TLB    DON 


117 


Tall  and  erect,  thin  and  lithe,  with  the  eye  of  an  eagle  and 
the  nose  of  a  Roman,  and  a  smooth  face  and  a  heavy  dark 
poll;  a  notable  figure  and  a  portentous  prophet,  he  stood  the 
observed  of  all  observers.  At  the  first  his  velvety  tones  and 
suave  bearing  acted  soothingly  upon  the  conflicting  elements 
in  the  assembly.  But  presently,  when  his  charges  rose  to  the 
character  of  an  indictment,  his  voice  rang  with  the  resonance 
of  a  trumpet. 

Lammels  was  there,  according  to  his  threat,  and  several 
other  aldermen  were  with  him  backed  up  by  the  worst  element 
that  could  be  gathered  from  the  quagmires  of  the  population. 
They  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  police  because,  according 
to  a  preconcerted  plan,  they  were  instructed  to  keep  at  a  dis- 
tance. Aware  of  the  whole  conspiracy,  the  colonel  passed  the 
word  for  the  members  of  his  old  regiment,  of  whom  there  were 
not  a  few  in  the  city,  to  be  on  hand  for  an  emergency.  The 
enemies  of  the  meeting  were  massed  in  the  rear  of  the  hall; 
the  veterans  and  the  speaker's  friends  gathered  in  a  compact 
mass  around  the  platform  and  in  the  center  of  the  hall. 

At  a  moment  when  Tukey  was  describing  the  city  govern- 
ment as  the  great  red  dragon  with  seven  heads,  ten  horns  and 
seven  crowns,  and  was  aggravating  the  comparison  by  speak- 
ing of  the  city  as  being  in  the  possession  of  seven  devils,  mean- 
ing Lammels  and  six  of  his  confederates,  trouble  came  like 
a  tornado. 

Lammels  shouted:  "Down  with  Tukey!  Clean  out  the 
platform!" 

The  colonel,  now  in  his  element,  stepped  forward  and 
thundered:  "Charge,  boys!  Down  with  the  enemies  of  free 
speech !" 

Electrified  by  the  colonel's  call,  Don  and  Bert  plunged 
from  the  platform  to  the  floor  by  flying  leaps,  and  the  next 


;  . 


^Mfili 


ip^yw  •'  'v^'f.  7-y 


'*  v; 


118 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


instant  were  battlin^^*  by  the  side  of  the  veterans  in  the  very 
thickest  of  the  fray.  Getting  near  to  Lammels,  Don  in  front 
and  Bert  in  the  rear,  one  would  punch  him  in  his  fat  ab<lomcn, 
while  the  other  improved  the  opportunity  to  knock  his  hat  over 
his  eyes ;  the  wedge  of  veterans  the  while  steadily  driving  him 
and  his  forces  toward  the  door  with  an  impetus  that  would 
have  pushed  the  wall  out  if  it  had  struck  it  fairly. 

The  hall  was  now  clear,  and  the  speaking  went  on  without 
further  disturbance,  although  during  the  riot  serious  blows 
had  been  given  and  taken. 

When  the  boys  reached  home  they  looked  as  though  they 
had  just  been  dropped  from  the  talons  of  a  western  whirlwind. 

"Here  are  your  for-righteousness-sake  champions,"  said 
Bert,  dolefully  rubbing  his  bruised  shins  and  exhibiting  the 
rents  made  in  his  and  Don's  garments  during  the  riot. 

"Good  gracious,  boys!  What  has  happened  to  you?" 
exclaimed  Nora,  in  alarm.  "Did  vou  fall  into  the  hands  of 
ail  Ann  street  mob  on  the  way  home?" 

"No,  not  on  the  way  hotne,  but  while  we  were  in  your  con- 
founded Faneflil  Hall  meeting!"  Bert  replied. 

"We  were  rocked  in  The  Cradle  of  Liberty,  according  to 
our  contract  with  you."  said  Don.  "But  I  can  assure  you  that 
Avc  didn't  go  to  sleep  while  being  rocked.  If  this  is  a  speci- 
men of  the  meetings  you  would  send  us  to  by  way  of  squaring 
for  going  to  hear  Theodore  Parker,  I'll  hear  no  more  Parkers 
while  the  world  stands." 

"But  it  was  just  glorious!"  Bert  interrupted,  reviving  at 
the  recollection  of  their  victory.  "We  routed  Lammels  and 
his  mob,  horse,  foot  and  dragoons,  and  then  went  to  the  plat- 
form and  listened  to  Tukey  to  the  finish." 

When  Don  reached  the  store  the  next  morning  wearing 
a  long  scratch  on  the  right  side  of  his  forehead,  the  colonel 


wniMiiii  mffftm^immmmi^^'m 


<W"if(""iP!P«l|P*fPlW"*PP"*'"'"^>" 


Am    0A8TLHS    DON 


•11^ 


grimly  asked:  "Well,  my  boy,  how  do  you  like  our  Boston 
School  of  Oratory?" 

"The  oratory  is  all  right,  but  isn't  the  price  of  tuition  rather 
high?"  was  the  reply.  "Do  you  always  have  a  fight  when  you 
hold  meetings  in  Far.euil  Hall?" 

"Not  always;  but  we  like  to  make  a  good  job  of  it  when 
liberty  of  speech  is  involved,  just  as  we  did  last  night.  That 
was  your  first  battle  for  freedom,  and  you  deserve  a  shoulder 
strap— both  you  and  Bert— for  the  way  you  lammed  Lam- 
mels."     And  the  colonel  turned  away  chuckling  deeply. 


£^  <ii^':ki^-^£ . 


t-M 


3 


■I 

4  ■ 


TT" 


II    J  ii 


»i  ^*iiiit 


' ,'    V' 


CHAPTER   XII. 


ADRIKT  AGAIN. 


Miss  Arabella  Belinda  Agincourt,  whom  Don  so  madly 
worshipped  for  a  week,  did  not  mean  to  be  either  a  Medusa  or 
a  Pandora.  That  is  to  say,  she  did  not  mean  to  adopt  the 
methods  of  those  fabled  goddesses  of  mythology,  such  as  wear- 
ing serpents  on  her  head  or  gossipping  about  with  a  box  of 
evils  in  her  hand.  Nevertheless  she  proved  a  viper  to  Don's 
interests  and  a  box  of  plagues  to  his  reputation. 

She  was  a  near  relative  of  the  Wickworths,  and  occasion- 
ally made  a  visit — a  friendly  call  to  their  counting  room.  She 
seldom  took  much  notice  of  Don,  save  to  talk  about  him 
behind  his  back  to  both  the  deacon  and  the  colonel.  There 
was  nothing  designedly  malicious  about  her  tittle-tattle, 
although  she  was  always  more  or  less  contemptuour  in  her 
allusions  to  him.  Her  invidious  remarks  were  based  entirely 
upon  the  fact  that  he  had  descended  from  the  glories  of  the 
Covert  boarding  house  and  had  condescended  to  accept  shelter 
under  the  widow's  roof.  To  every  depth  there  is  a  lower  deep. 
There  were  not  a  few  whose  noses  grew  tip-tilted  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  Covert  domicile,  and  it  was  doubtless  by  way  of 
self  compensation  that  the  venerably  beauteous  maid  turned 
up  her  nose  at  Mrs.  William's  boarding  house. 

Dispositions  like  hers  are  tinder  boxes  or  lucifer  matches 
— parlor  or  otherwise^-of  dire  possibilities.     More  accurately 

(lao) 


ii|i|jiy|iii,,iiii|pi..ffffiiw>yi 


so  madly 
Medusa  or 
adopt  the 
1  as  wear- 
a  box  of 
to  Don's 

occasion- 
•om.  She 
bout  him 
:1.  There 
ttle-tattle, 
ur  in  her 
d  entirely 
ies  of  the 
!pt  shelter 
wer  deep, 
the  men- 
ly  way  of 
id  turned 

■  matches 
iccurately 


' 


n«P 


Am    CASTLE    DON 


mfimm' 


Speaking,  they  are  like  old  rafi^s  whicli  manifest  an  inscrutable 
tendency  to  spontaneous  combustion,  and  all  the  consequences 
connected  therewith. 

From  the  vantage  ground  of  her  third  story  windows  she 
commanded  a  full  view  of  the  Square;  nor  was  she  above 
observing,  so  far  as  she  could,  what  was  going  on  in  the  neigh- 
boring buildings.  She  was  descended  from  Kvc,  and  why 
should  she  not  indulge  her  curiosity,  especially  when  she  had 
so  much  spare  time  on  hand?  The  widow's  house  was  withiij 
range,  and  using  her  opera  glass  one  Sunday  she  saw  Don 
leaning  over  the  edge  of  one  of  the  front  attic  windows  of  the 
piemises.  She  saw  him  several  times  afterward  in  the  same 
position,  and  therefore  concluded  that  he  boarded  as  an  attic 
boarder.  She  did  not  intend  to  commit  an  Irish  bull,  yet  she 
virtually  said  to  herself:  "The  higher  he  goes  the  lower  he 
gets." 

In  one  of  her  visits  at  the  Wickworth  counting  room  she 
made  it  her  business  to  say:  "Your  Donalds  boy  cannot  be  of 
much  account,  for  I  have  discovered  that  he  lives  in  an  attic." 

"I  do  not  see  how  that  can  be,  for  I  pay  three  dollars  and 
a  half  a  week  for  his  board,  and  that  amount  ought  to  secure 
decent  quarters  for  him,"  said  the  deacon,  much  surprised. 

"Then  you  are  being  deceived,"  said  Miss  Agincourt 
severely;  "the  widow  certainly  would  not  have  the  brass  to 
charge  him  that  amount.  At  our  place  those  who  occupy  the 
attics  are  charged  only  three-quarter  prices."  When  she  left 
the  counting  room,  to  make  her  insinuations  more  effective, 
she  cautioned  her  uncle  against  being  imposed  upon  by  an 
unprincipled  stripling,  and  went  her  way  flattering  herself  that 
she  had  done  a  very  laudable  stroke  of  business. 

The  deacon's  high  regard  for  morals  led  him  to  lament  the 
sad  degeneracy  of  the  modern  boy;  and  his  equally  high 


ii 


122 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


, tmi 


ri'j^arfl  for  liin  own  interests  made  him  chuckle  to  think  that  he 
should  he  al)le  to  make  a  weekly  saving  on  Don's  hoard  bill. 

On  Saturday  night  he  bluntly  asked:  "Don,  what  do  you 
pay  for  hoard?" 

Don  frankly  said  that  he  was  paying  two  dollars  and  a  half, 
and  he  supposed  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  his  management 
of  his  finances  would  b»*  seen  in  its  true  light  and  meet  with  the 
approval  of  his  cmployti*. 

The  boy  was  thunderstruck  w'len  the  deacon  coolly  handed 
him  two  dollars  and  a  half,  at  the  same  time  saying  that  there- 
after only  that  amount  would  if  allowed  him  for  board,  but 
his  indignation  was  aroused  when  the  deacon  accused  him  of 
lying,  and  added  insult  to  injury  by  reading  him  a  long  lecture 
on  the  evil  and  danger  of  falsehood.  Don  fearlessly  defended 
himself  and  referred  the  deacon  to  the  original  conversation 
with  Bert  Williams  by  which  the  board  question  was  settled 
without  his  having  had  any  part  in  it,  and  he  explained  the 
plan  of  self  denial  and  economy  by  which  he  had  enabled  him- 
self to  keep  himself  in  decent  condition  for  the  store.  The 
more  he  defended  himself  the  more  firmly  convinced  the  dea- 
con became  of  the  total  depravity  of  boys  in  general  and  of 
Don  and  Bert  in  particular. 

Colonel  Wickworth  easily  understood  the  whole  arrange- 
ment, and  maintained  that  Don  ought  to  be  commended  and 
not  condemned,  and  that  he  ought  to  continue  to  receive  the 
amount  that  had  been  allowed  him. 

But  there  were  Arabella's  suspicions  of  deliberate  con- 
sj  iracy  between  the  two  boys,  and  the  deacon  referred  to  them 
as  if  they  were  facts  sworn  to  and  confirmed. 

The  colonel,  becoming  impatient  at  the  mention  of  his 
niece's  connection  with  the  affair,  said:  "I'o  weight  should 
be  given  to  Arabella's  guesses;  she  has  nothing  to  do  but  to 


J 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


P*" 


128 


mmmm 


imagine  evil  of  mankind,  and  it  in  n  piece  of  cruel  impertin- 
ence for  her  to  peddle  her  conjectures  to  you  for  facts." 

The  elder  WickwortH  defended  the  niece,  and  the  alterca- 
tion began  to  wax  warm;  the  deacon  whined  and  the  colonel 
swore.  But  finally  the  deacon,  shedding  his  meekness,  as  a 
snake  sheds  its  overworn  and  lack-lustre  skin,  plainly  inti- 
mated that  if  the  colonel  could  not  assent  to  his  chief  manage- 
ment of  the  firm's  affairs,  he  might  get  out  of  it  as  soon  as  he 
pleased. 

■  During  the  wrangle  Don's  indignation  increased  to  a  white 
heat,  and  at  the  first  interval  in  the  war  .of  words  he  faced  the 
deacon  squarely,  saying:  "I  wouldn't  remain  in  your  employ 
for  any  consideration  whatever."  Suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  he  left  the  counting  room. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  leave?"  asked  the  colonel,  follow- 
ing him  to  the  outer  room. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Don  firmly;  "I  am  as  good  as  called  a  liar 
and  a  thief  by  your  brother,  and  I'd  starve  before  I'd  stay 
imder  the  same  roof  with  such  a  defamer.  But  you  have  been 
very  kind  to  me  and  I  am  sorry  to  be  deprived  of  your  watch- 
care  and  instruction." 

"I  do  not  blame  you  for  your  decision;  you  could  do  no 
less,"  said  the  colonel.  If  at  any  time  you  want  a  friend,  come 
to  me  without  delay  or  hesitation."  And  as  he  shook  hands 
with  Don  he  gave  him  a  crisp  ten  dollar  bill  out  of  his  own 
private  resources. 

Don  felt  as  if  the  world  had  suddenly  dropped  from 
beneath  his  feet.  He  shut  himself  up  in  his  attic,  and,  unmind- 
ful of  the  tea  bell,  sat  like  one  in  a  dream.  Bert  entered  to 
see  why  he  did  not  go  down.  Don,  too  much  humiliated  to 
confide  in  his  friend  at  that  moment,  pleaded  lack  of  appetite, 
and  was  left  alone.  '    'f 


It 


:;i 


124 


AIR    GASTLtQ    DON 


Don  felt  as  if  he  had  been  stripped  of  his  character,  and  if 
he  had  been  stripped  of  his  clothing  and  turned  naked  upon 
the  street  he  could  not  have  felt  worse.  His  honor  and  ver- 
aci'cv  had  been  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  hitherto  they  had 
never  been  assailed.  His  sensitive  imagination  became  mor- 
bidly apprehensive,  and  he  feared  that  the  evil  reputation  fast- 
ened upon  him  by  the  deacon  would  follow  lim  in  his  attempts 
to  find  another  situation  in  Boston.  He  thought  of  returning 
home,  but  on  second  thought,  disdained  the  expedient  as  trea- 
son to  his  courage.  He  was  quickly  impulsive  in  formirtg 
plans,  too  much  so  for  his  own  good,  and  he  resolved  forth- 
with upon  what  he  would  do.  He  had  fourteen  dollars  and 
he  would  start  for  some  city  in  the  West  and  begin  anew.  No 
sooner  was  this  plan  formed  than  hope  smiled  upon  him  again, 
and  he  was  in  a  measure  prevented  from  inflaming  his  wound 
by  thinking  too  intently  of  it.  In  the  midst  of  his  projects 
there  was  a  tap  at  his  door.  Bert  and  Nora  entered,  and 
immediately  began  to  prepare  his  little  attic  table  with  food  and 
delicacies  drawn  from  the  best  supplies  the  house  afforded. 

Don  protested  against  the  trouble  being  taken  on  his 
account,  yet,  now  that  hope  had  reasserted  itself,  he  availed 
himself  of  their  kindness  and  ate  the  food  with  relish. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Has  anything  happened?" 
Bert  anxiously  asked,  beginning  to  see  that  Don's  trouble, 
whatever  it  was,  was  mental  rather  than  physical. 

"I  am  adrift  again,"  was  the  answer.  Then  in  the  midst 
of  their  exclamations,  and  in  anticipation  of  their  inquiries  he 
told  what  had  happened  from  the  time  of  Miss  Agincourt's 
appearance  on  the  scene  to  his  own  disappearance  from  it. 

"The  miserable  old  busybody!"  exclaimed  Nora,  fixing 
upon  Miss  Agincourt  the  blame  of  the  whole  misfortune. 

"The  hypocritical  old  punkinhead!"  said  Bert,  laying  all 


iiiiiii'iftri 


iiliitV'ftri 


•AmiikU. 


r^V'-  ''"w^^'^,;.'::-' 


ter,  and  if 
iked  upon 
r  and  ver- 
they  had 
:ame  mor- 
al ion  fast- 
s  attempts 
returning 
nt  as  trea- 
formirtg 
ved  forth- 
ollars  and 
new.     No 
lim  again, 
lis  wound 
s  projects 
tered,  and 
i  food  and 
'orded. 
:n   on  his 
le  availed 
I. 

ippened?" 
s  trouble, 

the  midst 
juiries  he 
jincourt's 
om  it. 
•a,  fixing 
une. 
ayiiig  all 


.lilDUJIWH" 


AIR    GASTLE    DON 


'ilMfiiyW'lni.  jiy.iii<w*»i9j»  !"p  !i'!i»U>i.i*|«>pli 


125 


the  blame  upon  the  deacon.  Then  suddenly  recollecting  his 
own  participation  in  the  three  dollar  and  a  half  arrangement 
he  was  overwhelmed  with  confusion  and  self  accusations,  and 
expressed  himself  accordingly,  and  assumed  most  of  the  blame. 

"It  is  all  owing  to  my  stupid  blundering,"  he  said  remorse- 
fully, "and  I  will  see  the  deacon  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
and  make  explanations  that  will  more  than  satisfy  him." 

"It  will  be  of  no  use,"  said  Don,  decidedly.  "When  a  man 
dandles  a  suspicion  as  a  woman  does  a  baby,  you  might  ar  well 
try  to  rob  a  woman  of  her  baby  as  to  try  to  remove  the 
suspicion  from  the  man's  mind.  Besides,  the  deacon  mounted 
his  pious,  white  horse  as  if  he  had  put  on  the  whole  armor  of 
righteousness,  and  right  or  wrong,  when  a  man  gets  up  in 
that  style,  nothing  short  of  a  cannon  shot  can  bring  him  down 
again." 

"I'll  fire  the  shot  that'll  fetch  him,"  Bert  said  quickly,  con- 
fident in  the  justice  of  his  cause. 

"You  haven't  got  a  g^in  that's  bfg  enough  for  that.  No 
explanations  will  avail  with  him.  I  gave  him  all  that  were 
needed.  That  whole  transaction  about  the  board  bill  was  a 
fair  and  square  transaction.  Instead  of  calling  me  a  deceiver 
and  a  liar,  if  he  had  had  a  soul  in  him  big  enough  to  put  in  the 
hollow  of  a  hair,  he  would  have  commended  me.  And  that 
is  all  there  is  to  it.  The  colonel  has  a  soul  bigger  than  a 
steeple;  he  stood  by  me,  and  quarrelled  with  the  deacon  on 
my  account,  and  gave  me  ten  dollars  out  of  his  own  pocket 
when  I  left  the  store.  If  he  were  at  the  head  of  the  cor:ern, 
there  would  have  been  no  fuss.  As  it  is,  nothing  will  induce 
me  to  go  back  there  again." 

Bert  saw  that  no  praying  to  Don  would  remove  the  moun- 
tain, and  he  at  once  bethought  himself  of  the  next  best  measure 
of  relief.    "Well,"  he  said,  hopefully,  "the  colonel  will  recom- 


-.rc.*»-^v-'V-T 


^«^:^.;,,7-  -.^     ~ »^.  ^^/^T'/'l^-'^V"'".'^"'!^-* 


196 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


mend  you  from  the  crown  of  your  head  to  the  soles  of  your 
feet,  and  if  people  get  wind  of  the  real  facts  of  the  case  they'll 
be  feathers  in  your  cap,  and  a  fool's  cap  for  the  deacon. 

With  the  premature  wisdom  that  is  born  of  a  too  early 
experience  of  the  harshness  of  the  world,  Don  replied :  "The 
colonel  is  my  friend,  yet,  notwithstanding  that,  a  blot  has  been 
put  upon  my  name,  and  lies  travel  leagues  before  truth  can  put 
on  its  boots.  'A  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great 
riches,  and  loving  favor  rather  than  silver  and  gold.'  And  I 
am  going  somewhere  else  to  see  if  I  can't  recover  what  I 
have  lost." 

"But  you  are  making  mountains  out  of  molehills,"  oLjected 
Bert,  practically,  beginning  to  see  that  Don  was  over  sensitive. 
"You  haven't  lost  your  good  name,  and,  what  is  better,  you 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  you  are  in  the  right. 
It  is  that  old  blubber-belted  whale  that's  in  the  wrong." 

"And  if  that  old  maid  Agincourt  were  here,"  added  Nora, 
"she'd  get  enough  of  my  tongue  to  make  her  think  she  had 
been  licked  by  Spanish  flies."  Then  suddenly  changing  from 
her  irate  tones  to  her  habitually  persuasive  voice,  she  said: 
"You  won't  leave  us,  will  you?" 

"Of  course  he  won't,"  Bert  answered.  "Do  you  suppose 
that  he  would  turn  his  back  upon  all  our  Boston  gods  and 
notions  and  go  where  there  are  only  scrub  people  atUi  ujtions 
and  no  excitements  worth  noticing?" 

But  Nora  was  not  pleased  with  this  reference  to  inf  .tt' ac- 
tions of  Boston;  they  excluded  all  recognition  of  her  own. 
What  she  most  desired  to  know  at  this  moment  was,  whether 
or  no  Don  would  weigh  her  in  the  scales  and  find  her  of 
sufficient  weight  to  decide  him  against  leaving  the  city.  She 
looked  her  thoughts  so  plainly,  that  Don,  now  that  separation 
was  decided  upon,  experienced  pangs  he  had  not  felt  before. 


fpypwyigw^  igw-iii.'.iyj  pi^gt'f  .^■■'.','".-M-  '•'J'JWVJ-I'  1.  P*'*'  w'!^if*f>^*n 


"i.i'^^'f^'wyrf.fjl^ 


es  of  your 
ase  they'll 
on. 

too  early 
ed:  "The 
t  has  been 
th  can  put 
than  great 
.'  And  I 
er  what  I 

"  oLjected 
sensitive, 
etter,  you 
the  right. 
>ng." 

ded  Nora, 
k  she  had 
?ing  from 
she  said: 

I  suppose 
gods  and 
M  iJjHons 

he  iilt'  ac- 
her  own. 
,  whether 
d  her  of 
ity.  She 
:paration 
t  before. 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


127 


"You  have  been  such  a  good  little  angel  to  me,  Nora,"  he 
said,  "that  it  will  be  very  hard  for  me  to  go  away  from  you." 

"But  you  won't  go,"  she  persisted. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  with  the  simple  directness  that  befitted 
the  fixity  of  his  purpose. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  arked  Bert,  becoming  thoroughly 
alarmed  at  the  bare  idea  of  losing  his  attic  rhum  and  tried 
street  companion. 

"Out  West." 

"Out  thunderation!"  Bert  gasped  in  desperation.  "Out  to 
Chicago,  I  suppose,  to  see  the  Indian  and  the  buffalo,  and*to 
prowl  among  the  prairie  dogs  and  wolves  and  rattle  snakes. 
Out  there!  where  people  die  by  tornadoes  and  whirlwinds,  or 
are  frozen  stiff  by  blizzards  in  the  winter  or  are  roasted  to  a 
crisp  by  a  broiling  sun  in  summer.  There!  where  the  men 
wear  home-made  trousers  and  the  women  have  coal-scuttle 
bonnets,  and  where  the  school  houses  and  churches  are  built 
of  logs  or  mud,  and  Bibles,  books  and  paintings  are  scarcer 
than  hens'  teeth.  Go  out  there!  where  there  isn't  a  solitary 
great  man,  nor  so  much  as  one  famous  woman,  nor  an  idea 
that's  big  enough  to  cover  the  point  of  a  pin,  and  where  the 
best  church  members  are  worse  than  the  worst  sinners  of  the 
East,  and  Heaven  is  a  million  miles  away,  and  the  other  place 
so  close  by  that  it  crops  out  at  the  surface."  And  drawing 
partly  from  his  prejudices  against  the  West,  and  still  more 
from  his  ignorance,  and  most  of  all,  from  the  crude  notions 
that  so  many  Eastern  people  had  of  Western  conditions,  Bert 
said  worse  things  than  are  here  set  down. 

It  so  happened  that  Barry,  the  artist  mentioned  in  a  former 
chapter,  having  been  in  Chicago,  had  given  Don  quite  accurate 
accounts  of  the  West  in  general,  and  of  Chicago  in  particular, 
so  that  the  country  boy  was  far  better  acquainted  with  the  now 


•    'I 


i- 


4 


'y<V;r  ')^\  s5- v?*'''lf?<' 


128 


AIB    CASTLE    DON 


acknowledged  metropolis  of  the  West  than  was  the  Boston  boy 
with  all  his  superior  advantages. 

Supposing  that  Bert  was  indulging  in  mere  sarcasm,  Don 
cut  the  tirade  short  by  saying:  "No,  Chicago  is  not  in  view 
yet ;  my  out  West  only  means  Albany.  From  there  I  hope  in 
the  course  of  time  to  work  my  way  beyond  the  Mississippi." 

"Really?"  Bert  asked  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"Yes,  really,  Bert.  I  shall  start  for  Albany  day  after 
to-morrow." 

Nora,  now  in  tears,  hastened  down  stairs  for  her  mother, 
and  presently  brought  her  up  to  remonstrate  with  Don,  who, 
however,  was  not  to  be  moved  from  his  p'  rpose. 

Bert  immediately  began  to  adjust  himself  to  the  inevitable, 
and  on  the  following  evening  handed  Don  a  note,  saying  by 
way  of  explanation:  "I  saw  the  colonel  privately  this  after- 
noon. He  says  that  you  did  right  in  determining  not  to 
remain  in  the  store  after  what  had  taken  place,  but  thinks  that 
you  are  acting  rashly  in  leaving  Boston  so  hastily.  He 
brought  the  note  over  to  me  just  before  I  started  for  home, 
and  I  suppose  that  it  contains  a  recommendation  for  which 
I  asked." 

The  note  embodied  the  substance  of  what  had  been  said  to 
Bert,  and  enclosed  just  such  a  testimonial  as  might  be 
expected  from  the  soldierly  man  who  wrote  it.  At  twelve 
o'clock  on  the  succeeding  day  Don  reluctantly  parted  from  his 
North  Square  friends  and  boarded  the  cars  for  Albany. 


oston  boy 


mi-wmrmmmm^ 


I  mm  II 11 II  III  HI  II  M  yijumijuyyii 


^Wfci    il>iiii»*irt<w»iiiMi>^""^ 


asm,  Don 
)t  in  view 
I  hope  in 
ssissippi." 

day  after 

r  mother, 
)on,  who, 

nevitable, 
iaying  by 
his  after- 
g  not  to 
links  that 
tily.  He 
or  home, 
or  which 

n  said  to 
night  be 
it  twelve 
from  his 


CHAPTER   XHI. 


I.OOK   BEFORE  YOU  LEAP. 

"I  am  disgusted  with  this  shallow  soil  and  barren  surround- 
ings," said  a  small  tree  to  itself.  And  it  pulled  itself  up  by  the 
roots,  and,  using  them  for  legs,  trotted  ofT  to  another  location. 
The  sum  of  its  experience  was  that  it  would  have  done  better 
to  have  remained  where  it  was  and  devoted  itself  to  growing 
instead  of  to  grumbling. 

Don  had  made  friends  of  the  widow's  family,  and  of  Colonel 
Wickworth  and  Faiher  Taylor  as  well,  and  this,  too,  by  com- 
mending himself  to  them,  as  trustworthy  and  true.  This  was 
a  beginning,  and  by  remaining  where  he  wa  ,  he  would  have 
made  other  friends,  and  so,  would  gradually  have  grown  in 
strength,  and  in  the  number  of  his  opportunities  also.  In 
making  so  great  a  change  for  so  small  a  cause,  Don  was 
throwing  away  his  gains  and  incurring  fresh  risks.  Little  by 
little,  or  link  by  link,  is  the  law  of  both  progress  and  strength. 
We  may  run  away  from  human  nature  in  one  place,  but 
wherever  we  go  we  shall  find  a  plenty  of  the  same  sort,  and  all 
the  more  certainly  because  we  can  never  rid  ourselves  of 
ourselves. 

After  paying  his  railway  fare,  Don  had  seven  dollars  left 
with  which  to  face  the  world  again.  Besides  the  baggage 
contained  in  his  small  sealskin  trunk  he  carried  an  excess  of 
pride,  of  sensitiveness,  of  impulse,  of  self  confidence  and  of 
variableness.     Possibly  some  of  this  surplus  stuff  was  packed 

("9)  :.     ', 


^^Hai^ 


*.-^' 


■^' 


ISO 


iji.iii,pii|i<i.i!iyii.,^':'' !-'5''"" ' "  ' 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


in  him  at  family  headquarters,  but  doubtless  it  had  been  lugged 
about  with  unnecessary  care.  Pity  it  was  that  he  had  not  by 
his  side  for  handy  use  a  grip-sack  filled  to  the  handles  with  a 
peck  or  so  of  forethought  or  precaution.  Such  a  commodity 
might  have  saved  him  a  peck  of  trouble. 

When  he  arrived  at  Greenbush,  opposite  Albany,  it  was 
dark,  and  he  was  sound  asleep  in  his  seat  and  did  not  hear  the 
conductor's  order  for  passengers  bound  to  Albany  to  take  the 
forward  cars.  .  A  rude  shake  aroused  him,  and  after  being  told 
that  the  cars,  already  moving,  were  on  their  way  to  Troy,  he 
was  told  to  stir  himself  quickly  and  jump  from  the  train.  Not 
being  accustomed  to  railway  jumps  he  reached  the  ground  in 
such  a  condition  that  when  he  came  to  himself  he  discovered 
that  he  was  lying  upon  a  wheelbarrow  close  to  a  hoarsely 
breathing  locomotive  in  the  Greenbush  roundhouse.  Two 
begrimed  railway  engineers  stood  looking  down  upon  him. 
On  attempting  to  rise,  severe  pain  admonished  him  that  it 
would  be  better  for  him  to  lie  still. 

"What  has  happened  to  me?"  he  asked  in  a  faint  voice. 

"That  is  just  what  we  should  like  to  know  ourselves,"  said 
one  of  the  men  grimly.  We  picked  you  up  from  the  railway 
track  where  we  found  you  to  all  appearance  as  dead  as  a  rail. 
How  long  you  had  been  there,  we  do  not  know.  Can't  you 
give  us  some  account  of  yourself?" 

Don  related  his  story  about  jumping  from  the  train  by 
direction  of  the  conductor. 

"That's  just  like  Bill  Lummix!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  men 
indignantly;  "rather  than  stop  a  train  to  correct  a  mistake, 
he'd  kill  half  a  dozen  blunderers.    Are  you  much  hurt?" 

With  difficulty  Don  sat  upright  and  began  to  move  himself 
a  little  to  test  his  limbs.  None  of  them  were  broken,  but  the 
right  side  of  his  face  was  badly  cut,  as  was  also  the  outside 


'^■*rf*"^-^<^'*'fr-''  "^ 


r-^^V  t^M^pM^ 


;en  lugged 
lad  not  by 
lies  with  a 
ommodity 

ny,  it  was 
)t  hear  the 
:o  take  the 
being  told 
)  Troy,  he 
rain.  Not 
ground  in 
discovered 
a  hoarsely 
use.  Two 
upon  him. 
im  that  it 

voice. 
;lves,"  said 
he  railway 
d  as  a  rail. 

Can't  you 

e  train  by 

of  the  men 
a  mistake, 
lurt?" 
>ve  himself 
en,  but  the 
:he  outside 


AIB   CABTLB    DON 


181 


of  his  right  leg.    And  as  for  his  garments,  besides  being  clot- 
ted and  stained  with  blood,  they  were  badly  torn. 

Looking  ruefully  at  his  clothes  by  the  aid  of  the  lanterns 
of  the  two  men,  he  said:  "Judging  from  my  clothes,  I  have 
had  a  pretty  rough  tumble.  I  think  that  I  could  stand  up  if 
I  were  to  try  hard,  but  I'd  rather  not  attempt  it,  just  yet." 

The  men  were  neither  thick-headed  nor  hard-hearted,  and 
the  one  who  had  just  spoken  said:  "Let  us  fix  you  a  bit; 
there  is  no  need  of  trying  to  stand  just  yet."  And  they  gath- 
ered several  old  jackets  and  coats  and  stuffed  them  in  around 
him  as  well  as  they  could. 

Feeling  faint,  Don  asked  for  a  drink  of  water.  One  of  the 
men  brought  his  pail  containing  a  night  lunch,  and  gave  him 
a  drink  of  cold  tea,  which  so  revived  Don  that  he  began  to 
stir  himself  a  little. 

"Have  a  bite,"  said  the  kind-hearted  fellow,  removing  the 
top  compartment  of  the  pail  and  revealing  sandwiches  and  pie 
in  the  lower  part.  Don  was  hungry  as  well  as  thirsty,  but 
protested  against  robbing  the  man  of  his  food. 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  that,"  was  the  hearty 
reply;  "my  mate  Bob  will  share  his  pail  with  me  if  you  can 
clean  out  this  one." 

Having  eaten,  Don  sat  up,  though  not  without  pain. 

The  man  called  Bob,  who  was  waiting  for  a  night  freight 
to  take  his  engine,  said:  "When  we  went  to  pick  you  up,  we 
saw  two  fellows  run  away  from  you,  and  we  thought  that  they 
had  done  you  up  for  the  sake  of  robbery.  As  it  is,  we  are 
afraid  that  they  have  gone  through  your  clothes.  If  you  had 
any  money  with  you,  you  had  better  see  if  you've  got  it  now." 

Alarmed  at  this  suggestion,  Don  searched  his  pockets  in 
vain  for  his  pocket  book,  which  contained  his  money,  his 
trunk  check,  his  trunk  key  and  his  certificates  of  character. 


1  f^yfr'WHf 


132 


AIR    GASTLE    DON 


I*t- 


"Possibly  it  may  have  been  shaken  out  of  you  where  you 
fell,  and  though  there  is  small  chance  of  finding  it,  we  will  go 
and  search  with  our  lanterns,"  said  Bob,  moved  by  Don's 
distress. 

But  they  returned  as  blank  as  they  went,  to  Don's  utter  dis- 
may. Seeing  that  he  was  trembling  from  head  to  feet  at  this 
new  disaster,  the  men  made  inquiries  as  to  whence  he  came, 
who  he  was,  and  where  he  was  going,  and  what  for.  They 
did  what  they  could  to  allay  his  fears,  and  afforded  him  some 
slight  comfort  by  telling  him  to  stay  where  he  was  till 
morning. 

Hearing  the  whistle  of  his  train  in  the  distance,  Bob  and 
the  other  man,  his  temporary  fireman,  mounted  the  cab  of  his 
engine.  Before  his  engine  moved  several  men  had  gathered 
around  Don,  and  Bob  shouted  to  them  as  his  engine  began  to 
move:  "Say,  you  fellows,  look  after  that  wheelbarrow  chap 
kindly ;  he's  no  dead-beat.  Give  him  this  dollar  for  a  send-off 
in  the  morning,  and  make  it  two  or  three  if  you  can."  As  the 
engine  went  out  the  dollar  fell  upon  the  cinders,  followed  by 
a  half  dollar  sent  by  the  fireman  to  keep  it  company. 

The  foreman  of  the  roundhouse  picked  the  money  up  and 
handed  it  to  Don,  adding  another  fifty  cents  supplemented  by 
several  dimes  and  quarters  chipped  in  by  the  other  men.  Don 
felt  like  crying,  but  somehow  the  kindness  of  the  apparently 
rough  fellows  heartened  him  so  much  that  he  said:  "I  guess 
I'm  on  the  road  to  Jericho  fast  enough,  but  it's  plain  that  I 
haven't  fallen  among  thieves  in  this  roundhouse,  but  among 
good  Samaritans." 

One  of  the  turntable  men,  ignorant  of  the  Bible,  supposing 
that  Don  referred  to  his  destination,  said:  "The  Boston  and 
Albany  don't  go  to  no  Jericho.  You  must  have  got  on  the 
wrong  road." 


"I   ^p.|%l,»n*»iA'lr*r* 


vhere  you 
we  will  go 
by  Don's 

utter  dis- 
eet  at  this 

he  came, 

or.     They 

him  some 

t  was  till 

Bob  and 
cab  of  his 
I  gathered 
e  began  to 
rrow  chap 
a  send-off 
."  As  the 
)llowed  by 

y- 

ley  up  and 
mented  by 
len.  Don 
apparently 
"I  guess 
lain  that  I 
mt  among 

supposing 
oston  and 
rot  on  the 


M 


AtR   CA6TLR   DON 


1S3 


"Oh,  get  out!"  said  another  one;  "don't  you  know  enough 
to  know  that  this  lad  is  a  sort  of  a  Scripture  fellow,  and  that 
he's  talking  Bible  at  us?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  was  the  reply;  "this  road  gives  us 
such  a  small  chance  to  see  the  inside  of  a  church  or  to  know 
Sunday  when  it  comes  around  that  there's  no  more  Bible  for 
us  than  there  is  for  the  wind  or  for  running  water.  But  I  can 
tell  him  that  though  he'll  find  no  thieves  among  this  gang  of 
sinners,  he'll  find  'em  thick  enough  outside  of  the  roundhouse, 
and  that's  cos  we're  so  near  Albany  and  the  State  House." 

In  the  little  intervals  of  time  that  the  men  had  to  them- 
selves, they  washed  the  blood  from  Don's  face  and  leg.  And 
what  was  still  better,  as  some  of  them  kept  needles,  thread  and 
buttons  for  personal  emergencies,  they  sewed  up  the  rents  in 
his  garments  as  best  they  could,  and  supplied  the  places  of 
several  buttons  that  were  missing.  Don's  hat  was  among  his 
losses,  and  its  place  was  supplied  by  a  soft  hat  which  looked 
as  though  it  had  been  run  over  by  a  lightning  express. 

Observing  that  Don  was  scrutinizing  the  inside  of  the  hat 
with  some  care,  the  man  who  gave  it  to  him  said  with  a  hearty 
laugh:  "You  needn't  look  for  any  population  there,  my  lad; 
it  is  Bob  Flanger's  hat,  and  he  keeps  a  head  on  him  that  is 
cleaner  than  a  peach-blossomj  He's  everlastingly  soaking  his 
head  under  the  hydrant,  and  that's  as  fatal  to  head-tramps  as 
the  gallows  is  to  them  that's  hung  on  it." 

"If  I  ever  get  rich  I'll  hang  this  hat  in  the  best  place  in 
my  library  in  remembrance  of  Bob  and  the  rest  of  you,"  said 
Don  gratefully,  and  withal  relieved  to  know  that  it  belonged 
to  the  sturdy  engineer. 

"Rich!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  men  rather  thoughtlessly; 
"if  such  a  banged-up  looking  fellow  as  you  ever  gets  to  piling 


134 


AIR    GA8TLB    DON 


money  into  a  bank,  it'll  be  because  creation  has  got  turned 
'totlier  end  foremost." 

"Oh,  shut  oflf  your  steam,  Black!"  impatiently  exclaimed 
the  man  who  brought  the  hat ;  "can't  you  see  that  you  are  talk- 
ing to  a  respectable  kid,  and  not  to  a  young  bummer?" 

"When  will  Bob,  as  you  call  him,  come  back?"  Don  asked, 
feeling  a  desire  to  see  him  again  before  he  left  the  roundhouse. 

"There  is  no  telling  anything  about  that,"  replied  Jake 
Cullum,  the  hat-man.  "His  turn  is  to  Chicago  and  back,  and 
when  a  man  goes  out  of  this  roundhouse  we  are  sure  of 
nothing  till  his  engine's  nose  comes  puffing  in  again.  'Engin- 
eers don't  most  always  die  in  their  beds,'  you  know."  And 
Jake  used  this  bit  of  railroad  slang  with  so  much  significance 
that  his  meaning  v/as  far  more  impressive  than  if  it  had  been 
dressed  up  in  a  tailor-made  suit. 

When  Don  began  to  grow  sleepy  the  men  put  two  wheel- 
barrows together  and  filling  them  with  clean  cotton  waste, 
made  him  a  bed  that  he  could  lie  in  with  some  comfort. 
Covering  him  with  coats  they  left  him  to  his  slumbers,  but  at 
no  time  of  the  night  was  he  lost  sight  of  altogether.  Every 
fresh  gang  of  men  that  came  in  took  an  interest  in  the  boy 
as  soon  as  they  were  informed  of  his  mishap  and  of  Bob's  care 
for  him.  The  grim  monsters  of  the  road,  fifteen  or  twenty  in 
all,  were  alive  with  fire  and  steam,  and  incessantly  and  harshly 
noisy,  but  Nature  held  Don  so  closely  to  her  breast  that  he 
slept  soundly  till  dawn.  His  awaking,  however,  seemed  like 
a  hideous  nightmare,  and  it  was  some  time  before  his  confused 
faculties  could  disentangle  him  from  his  illusion. 

Although  still  stiff  and  sore,  he  was  able  to  move  about, 
and  after  eating  a  sandwich  given  to  him  by  one  of  the  men, 
he  took  a  look  at  himself  in  a  piece  of  mirror  that  was  fast- 
ened to  the  wall.     His  face  being  black  and  blue,  and  one  eye 


(\ 


JG 


■,T  ff^l' 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


136 


U 


almost  closed,  he  could  scarcely  recognize  himself.  His  first 
thought  was  to  go  over  the  river  to  Albany  and  get  access  to 
his  clothing,  but  being  without  either  check  or  key,  he  at  once 
realized  that  the  trunk  might  as  well  be  in  Boston  for  any  good 
it  might  do  him. 

"What  shall  I  do  about  my  trunk?"  he  asked  of  Jake 
Cullum,  who  still  kept  a  kindly  watch  over  him,  "now  that  I 
have  lost  my  check  and  key  with  my  pocket  book?" 

"Well,  youngster,  you've  got  me  under  a  dead  engine — 
pinned  out  of  sight;"  and  Jake  scratched  his  head  in  vain  for  a 
solution  of  the  difficulty.  Presently  brightening,  he  said: 
"You  of  course  know  the  contents  of  the  trunk  and  can 
describe  them  to  the  baggage  master;  that  may  help  you  a 
little;  but  I  guess  I'll  have  to  go  over  with  you  and  swear 
that  your  story  about  jumping  from  the  train  and  all  that,  is 
true.  So,  come  along,  for  I  have  only  an  hour  before  my 
engine  goes  out."  He  was  but  a  fireman,  yet  his  heart  was 
in  the  right  place. 

Arriving  at  the  baggage  room,  Don  had  no  sooner  stated 
his  predicament  than  an  underling  of  the  room,  glancing  at 
his  face  and  clothing,  positively  refused  to  take  any  further 
notice  of  him.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  fireman  backed  up  his 
claims  as  well  as  he  knew  how;  he  was  not  known  to  the  bag- 
gageman, and  the  two  were  accused  of  being  pals  trying  to 
play  a  transparent  confidence  game. 

Presently  his  majesty,  the  chief  baggage  master,  made  his 
appearance,  and  Don  attempted  an  appeal  to  him,  but  the 
underling  immediately  made  his  own  representation  of  the  case 
and  Don  and  Jake  were  told  that  if  they  did  not  leave  the 
premises  forthwith  a  policeman  would  be  called. 

"You  might  as  well  run  your  head  under  a  locomotive  as 
to  run  afoul  of  a  baggage  man  without  your  check,"  said  Jake 


•I 


T^ 


ISA 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


with  a  tall  oath.  "I  can  do  no  more  for  you,  and  must  go 
back  to  the  roundliouse.  It's  my  opinion  that  they'll  forget 
all  about  you  in  ten  minutes,  so  that,  if  in  half  an  hour,  the 
fellows  who  stole  your  pocket  book  should  come  around  with 
the  check,  they'll  get  the  trunk  without  any  questions  being 
asked.  Good  by,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul 
while  you're  in  this  town."  Jake  spoke  with  the  bitterness 
of  the  laboring  man  who  instinctively  feels  that  an  unfortunate 
is  a  snowball  rolling  down  an  inclined  plane  adding  to  his 
misfortunes  with  every  turn  he  makes. 

Don  tried  to  obtain  access  to  the  higher  ofHcials,  whose 
offices  were  in  the  same  building,  but  his  bruised  and  tattered 
appearance  was  invincibly  against  him,  and  he  might  as  well 
have  attempted  to  board  the  moon  with  a  view  of  going  to 
some  land  where  the  truth  is  known  by  reading  the  heart 
direct. 

Beginning  to  suffer  hunger,  he  a*  nted  to  enter  a  restau- 
rant, but  was  no  sooner  seen  than  he '  'lered  into  the  street. 
He  was  similarly  treated  in  several  other  places,  which  he  tried 
one  after  another.  Drifting  down  toward  the  river  docks  in 
a  dazed  condition,  he  approached  a  street  stand  kept  by  an  old 
Irish  woman.  She  saw  so  many  battered  specimens  of  human- 
ity every  day  that  she  took  scant  notice  of  Don's  disordered 
person,  although  she  made  sure  that  the  worth  of  his  pur- 
chases dropped  into  her  wrinkled  palm  before  the  purchases 
passed  into  his  possession. 

'When  Jonah  and  his  old  sermons,  after  proving  such  an 
indigestible  problem  to  the  whale,  were  vomited  up  on  dry 
land  again,  he  must  have  presented  a  very  disreputable  appear- 
ance. And  the  question  is,  how  did  he  manage  to  work  him- 
self back  into  respectable  society?  But  we  came  near  forget- 
ting that  Jonah,  though  coming  from  a  sea  of  trouble  in  his 


/ 


.  vii^j-nwfl'.'l'JB* 


il'J'Mwfci 


mm' 


Ain    OASTLB    DON 


m 


half  (iigested  suit  of  clothes,  was  far  superior  to  the  rich  sinners 
of  Ninevah  who  were  clothed  in  fine  linen  and  fared  sumptu- 
ously every  day.  And  it  is  not  far  to  say  that  even  in  this  day 
of  multi-niillionaires  some  who  arc  looked  down  upon  because 
of  the  inferior  appearance  they  make  are  infinitely  superior  to 
some  who  arc  looked  up  to  because  of  their  wealtli  and  liveried 
turnouts. 

All  that  day — a  long,  long  day — Don,  so  far  as  his  thoughts 
and  his  experiences  were  concerned,  like  the  early  martyrs, 
"wandered  in  deserts,  and  in  mountains,  and  in  dens  and  in 
caves  of  the  earth."  When  he  was  again  refused  lodging- 
house  shelter  as  night  came  on,  he  felt  as  lonely  and  as  much 
abandoned  of  God  and  man  as  if  he  were  cast  into  the  midst 
of  the  Sahara  desert  with  only  the  lio.is  for  companions. 

Exhausted  by  his  wanderings,  with  every  bruise  shooting 
flames  of  pain,  and  very  thought  racking  him  more  than  his 
bruises,  he  went  up  State  street  toward  the  center  of  the  city. 
Here  the  Capitol  building — not  the  twenty-five  million  one 
that  now  crowns  the  capitoline  hill — but  the  old  one — attracted 
his  attention.  He  ascended  the  steps  and  took  shelter  among 
the  shadows  of  the  portico,  where,  overcome,  he  sat  down  to 
rest  in  the  obscurest  corner  he  could  find.  Presently  he  lay 
prone  upon  the  flagging  and  fell  into  a  troubled  slumber  which 
lasted  till  the  morning. 


-*■#■ 


■ 

1 

^ 

-• 

"^^1 

"■« 

■'1 

_   '   .*'      t 

i 

1 

* 

i 

■^m-'^'^sifvmmm^BiiHam 


m»»ss0mMimi^ 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


HOW  A  CITY   BBCOMBS  A  THORN   BUSH. 

To  the  wretched  and  unfortunate  one  day  is  as  like  to 
another  as  one  thorn  is  like  all  others  that  grow  upon  tlv"  same 
bush.  And  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  although  a  city  may  be 
the  best  of  cities  as  cities  go,  to  the  unfortunate  it  is  a  hedge 
of  thorns  through  which  it  is  impossible  to  pass  without  being 
wounded  at  almost  every  step.  Albany  is  as  near  Heaven  as 
any  other  American  city  to  such  as  have  the  means  and  dis- 
position to  avail  themselves  of  its  great  advantages,  but  on  the 
other  hand  it  is  just  as  near  to  Tophet  as  any  other  city  to 
such  as  have  fallen  beneath  the  wheels  of  fate. 

Although  Albany  is  beautiful  for  situation  and  the  joy  of 
many  people,  it  became  a  mortal  terror  to  Don.  While  the 
contributions  of  the  roundhouse  philanthropists  lasted  he  could 
appease  his  hunger  by  dining  cheaply  and  unmolested  at  the 
apple  stands,  after  washing  himself  in  the  free  and  friendly 
waters  of  the  Hudson.  But  when  he  went  the  rounds  seeking 
employment  his  appearance  was  so  much  against  him,  he  was 
not  merely  the  subject  of  simple  negatives,  but  the  victim  of 
positive  scorn  and  cruelty  as  well.  The  constant  dropping  of 
water  will  wear  away  a  stone,  and  the  constant  dripping  of 
unkindness  wore  deep  channels  through  Don's  grit  and  reso- 
lution. Many  a  soul  has  been  undermined  for  time  and  for 
eternity  by  such  experiences  as  he  passed  through,  and  many 

(138) 


wwriO-":"- 


I.  'iitmi'  wv  .i.otfintiim*!'  .mijruii.! 


„^^ 


AIR    GA8TLB    DON 


IW 


a  crime  owes  its  origin  to  the  dogged  sullenness  which  has 
been  begotten  between  the  upper  and  nether  millstones  of  dire 
necessity.  Some  who  shine  in  society  would  have  reached  the 
gallows  by  the  road  in  which  Don  found  himself,  just  as  some 
who  are  in  the  pit  and  the  miry  clay  may  find  themselves  in 
honorable  eminence  if  but  a  ladder  is  put  down  for  their 
assistance.  * 

The  light  of  day  brought  little  comfort  to  Don,  but  the 
nights  were  times  of  terror  to  him.  It  might  have  been  writ- 
ten of  him  as  it  was  written  of  Abraham  at  a  crucial  period  of 
his  life:  "And  lo,  an  horror  of  great  darkness  fell  upon  him." 
For  Abraham's  darkness  there  was  the  mitigation  of  a  smoking 
furnace  and  a  burning  lamp.  For  Don  there  was  apparently 
nothing — but  darkness  piled  on  darkness  when  the  sun  went 
down. 

Don  knew  what  camping  out  meant.  With  a  blanket 
between  him  and  the  soft  moss,  and  a  campfire  burning  at  his 
feet  a-night  in  the  woods  far  from  the  haunts  of  men  was  a 
delight.  The  picturesque  underbrush  of  the  forest  ;  the 
stream  purling  over  the  rocks;  the  high  pines  singing  music- 
ally overhead;  the  twitter  of  the  wild  bird;  the  barking  of  the 
squirrel ;  the  answering  echo  of  the  fox ;  or  the  defiant  hoot  of 
the  owl;  all  these  but  gave  zest  to  the  pleasure  of  camping  out 
in  the  wilderness.  Slumber  came  like  soft-footed  peace 
among  such  scenes  as  these;  and  if  the  fairy  webs  of  dreams 
were  woven  through  the  corridors  of  the  brain  they  were  the 
webs  of  the  beautiful  wonderland. 

But  this  camping  out  in  a  city  was  another  thing.  While 
the  gas-lights  fiickered  fitfully,  and  the  sounds  of  footsteps 
diminished  and  the  roll  of  carriages  well  nigh  ceased  alto- 
gether, Don  moved  about  like  a  lost  spirit  seeking  rest  and 
finding  none.     He  took  furtive  glances  at  shadowed  recesses 


140 


Alll   CASTLE   DOM 


and  dark  holes  in  quest  of  some  spot  that  would  be  likely  to 
escape  the  watchman's  eye.  When  such  a  place  was  discov- 
ered it  required  no  small  degree  of  strategy  to  get  into  it 
without  being  observed.  Once  in,  the  rats  were  sure  to  dis- 
pute the  occupation  with  the  newcomer.  Or  a  homeless  dog, 
seeking  the  same  place,  would  snif?  at  the  occupant,  and  find- 
ing that  he  was  only  a  fellow  unfortunate,  would  quietly  settle 
down  beside  him  and  with  timely  growls  or  ominous  snaps, 
keep  the  rats  from  becoming  too  familiar  or  intrusive. 

One  night  Don  took  refuge  in  the  dark  portico  of  one  of 
the  largest  and  oldest  church  buildings  in  the  city.  While 
lying  there,  with  his  head  resting  upon  one  arm  for  a  pillow, 
he  recalled  the  words  which  he  had  heard  so  often  at  home: 
"Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled;  ye  believe  in  God;  believe 
also  in  me.  In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions;  if  it 
were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
for  you.  And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  will  come 
again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself;  that  where  I  am,  ye  may 
be  also."  The  words  were  like  a  strain  of  distant  music  hov- 
ering soft  and  sweet  upon  the  air;  but  instead  of  coming  nearer 
and  nearer,  it  receded  farther  and  farther  away.  Don  was 
troubled;  there  was  no  question  as  to  that,  for  the  tears  were 
raining  wormwood  drops  upon  his  sleeve.  Nor  could  he  help 
being  troubled ;  the  waves  had  gone  over  him,  and  the  sound 
of  many  waters  put  far  from  him  any  consolation  he  might 
have,  under  other  circumstances,  found  in  the  text. 

Why  did  not  the  Recording  Angel  whisper  in  his  ear  that, 
one  day  he  should  stand  in  the  pulpit  of  that  same  church  and 
preach  from  that  same  text  with  a  pertinency  and  power  that 
would  carry  the  great  audience  with  him  from  the  first  to  the 
last  words  of  the  sermon.  Perhaps  he  understood  that  Ear 
Gate  was  in  a  measure  barricaded  from  within  to  all  messages 


«.^_, 


iIbJum*  v'inmiilim'Mtvuitti  k.ir"i  in 


-«« 


■TWWyjjyMWI       yn    III  I 


AIR    GASTLE    DON 


141 


^ 


of  hope.  Perhaps  the  Angel  was  too  busy  recording  the  vices 
and  the  virtues  of  humanity — too  busy  trying  to  reconcile  the 
discrepancies  of  the  balance  sheet  to  notice  how  sadly  in  need 
of  encouragement  Don  stood.  Perhaps  the  Angel's  work  was 
so  exclusively  historical  that  he  had  not  attained  the  gift  of 
prophecy.  Probably,  in  any  event,  it  was  better  under  the 
circumstances  that  the  lad  should  see  through  a  glass  darkly, 
for  a  too  dazzling  light  is  totally  blinding  to  eyes  that  are  not 
strong. 

When  the  day  broke  and  while  Don  was  cautiously  making 
his  way  down  to  the  street  for  another  day's  start  in  the  world, 
his  eyes  happened  upon  the  tin  directory  of  the  church. 
Among  the  things  he  saw  on  the  directory  were  the  name  and 
the  address  of  the  pastor,  "The  Rev.  John  Paul  Lovejoy." 
That  was  a  name  to  conjure  with,  and  he  determined  to  seek 
the  owner  of  it  before  another  night  came.  "Possibly,"  he 
thought  to  himself,  "The  Rev.  John  Paul  Lovejoy  may  be  able 
to  tell  me  what  to  do ;  or  he  may  put  me  in  the  way  of  getting 
work.  I  know  that  I  am  a  hard  looking  customer,  but  a  min- 
ister ought  to  know  that  bad  appearances  may  sometimes  be 
just  as  deceitful  as  good  appearances." 

Inspired  by  hope,  he  breakfasted  on  a  sandwich  and  then 
went  down  to  the  river  to  make  his  toilet  preparatory  to  his 
important  call.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  forenoon 
might  be  an  unpropitious  time  for  calling  on  a  minister.  So 
far  as  the  habits  of  his  own  father  were  concerned,  there  was 
no  distinction  in  times.  The  village  minister's  rule  was — "The 
man  who  wants  to  see  me  is  the  man  I  am  placed  here  to  see." 

Don  went  to  the  residence  of  The  Rev.  John  Paul  Lovejoy 
and  rang  the  bell  boldly.  A  tidy  German  girl  anSVvered,  but 
the  moment  she  saw  him  she  made  an  almost  involuntary 
movement  to  close  the  door  in  his  face.     A  second  glance  at 


142 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


/ 


the  caller  arrested  her  movement,  and  she  inquired  his  busi- 
ness, after  noticing  that  the  lad  was  moistening  his  lips  ""if 
trying  to  find  his  words. 

"I  am  in  great  trouble  and  want  to  see  the  minister,  if  you 
please,"  he  at  length  managed  to  say  with  simple  directness. 

"The  dominie  is  in  his  study  busy  with  his  sermon,  and 
his  order  is  that  he  is  not  to  be  disturbed  in  the  forenoon  unless 
it  is  absolutely  necessary."  And  the  girl  spoke  her  lesson  as 
one  who  had  learned  it  well  enough  to  be  in  little  danger  of 
forgetting  it. 

"It  is  necessary  for  me  to  see  him,"  said  Don,  thinking 
only  of  his  own  urgent  side  of  the  case. 

Something  in  the  caller's  manner  and  tone  appealed  to  both 
the  respect  and  sympathy  of  the  girl,  and  she  said  without 
further  hesitation:  "If  you  will  wait,  I  will  go  and  see  what 
he  says,  though  I  am  afraid  that  he  will  be  displeased.  The 
dominie  is  quite  particular." 

"The  dominie!  Why  does  she  call  him  that?"  said  Don 
to  himself  while  waiting  outside  the  closed  door.  He  had 
never  heard  the  word  used  except  as  a  Latin  title  for  The  Lord, 
and  it  struck  him  as  being  little  less  than  blasphemous  to  apply 
it  to  a  minister.  While  he  was  musing  the  minister  himself 
came  to  the  door  with  pen  in  hand  and  the  ink  still  wet  upon 
its  point.  He  stood  in  velvet  slippers,  had  on  a  long  silk 
dressing  gown,  wore  spotless  linen,  a  wide  white  choker,  and 
gold-rimmed  eye  glasses,  and  altogether,  presented  an  appear- 
ance of  dignity  which  might  have  made  one  who  was  extremely 
ignorant  of  heavenly  things  believe  that  he  was  the  I  ord 
himself. 

As  soen  as  The  Rev.  John  Paul  Lovejoy  cast  eye  upon 
Don,  he  frowned  ominously,  and  curtly  asked:  "Your 
business?" 


( 


-MM*) 


i. 


his  busi- 
ips  "s  if 

r,  if  you 
rectness. 
ion,  and 
in  unless 
esson  as 
inger  of 

hinking 

to  both 
without 
ee  what 
The 

lid  Don 
He  had 
e  Lord, 
o  apply 
himself 
;t  upon 
ng  silk 
er,  and 
ippear- 
remely 
:  lord 


i  upon 
"Your 


'-'i-n'W.iiin'iiSi^Airilii^g'i 


I 


AIIl    OABTLB    DON 


148 


"I  am  in  trouble,"  Don  began. 

"Oh,  yes — of  course,"  the  minister  interrupted  tartly ;  "the 
unfortunate  are  as  plentiful  as  paving  stones.  I  have  no  time 
to  listen  to  you;  but  here  is  a  dime." 

Don  put  his  hands  behind  him  and  drew  back,  saying:  "I 
did  not  come  for  money,  but  for  advice."  Before  the  words 
were  fully  spoken,  the  minister  turned  and  closed  the  door  with 
an  emphatic  bang.  After  blistering  the  serving  girl  for  calling 
him  down  to  see  such  a  beggar,  he  returned  to  the  sermon 
which  he  was  to  preach  before  The  City  Charitable  Society 
from  the  text:  "And  now,  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity,  these 
three;  but  the  greatest  of  these  is  charity." 

The  Rev.  John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  was  an  able,  popular 
preacher  and  much  sought  after  for  great  occasions.  In  his 
sermon  he  intended  to  magnify  corporate  charity,  and  to  dep- 
recate private  alms-giving  as  the  bane  of  modern  ?ciety.  He 
was  so  intent  upon  this  that  he  left  no  private  path  in  which 
one  might  walk  as  a  messenger  of  God  to  the  poor  and  needy. 
His  opinions  were  graded  more  from  the  door  view  of  annoy- 
ance from  necessitous  cases,  than  from  the  view  of  God,  the 
pitiful  Father  of  both  the  rich  and  the  poor.  Yet  he  was  not 
without  his  benevolent  moments,  for  his  somewhat  bold  signa- 
ture fig^tred  largely  in  the  advertisements  of  men  who  manu- 
factured cures  for  corns,  indigestion,  flatulency,  colic,  minister- 
ial hysterics,  loss  of  brain  power  and  other  ills  "too  numerous 
to  mention."  Freely  he  had  received  and  freely  he  had  given 
— of  the  influence  of  his  illustrious  name  to  help  the  benevol- 
ent patent  medicine  venders  to  the  rewards  they  so  eminently 
deserved.  Over  his  study  door  hung  the  motto — ^the  words 
of  J.  Martineau:  "To  get  good,  is  animal;  to  do  good,  is 
human ;  to  be  good,  is  divine." 

When  Don  went  down  the  parsonage  steps  he  felt  as 


43 


■i 


.1 


-1 


Wi 


:t«l 


eij^TT 


144 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


f 


N 


though  his  heart  had  descended  to  zero.  "The  slippered, 
sleek,  begowned  old  pharisee,"  he  said  to  himself,  "he  ought 
to  go  over  to  the  Greenbush  roundhouse  and  take  a  few  lessons 
in  Christianity  from  the  engineers,  firemen  and- turntable  men  I 
Could  he  not  afTord  to  give  me  ten  words  of  kindness?  Ten 
cents!  That's  about  the  size  of  The  Reverend  John  Paul 
Lovejoy,  D.  D.  Thank  Heaven,  my  father  was  not  cut  out  of 
the  goods  that  fellow  is  made  of," 

He  remembered  the  evening  that  he  and  Bert  spent  in 
Theodore  Parker's  study  by  special  invitation.  And  he 
remembered  that  while  they  were  there,  several  unfortunate 
people  were  admitted  to  the  study,  and  that  instead  of  being 
brushed  aside  like  vermin,  they  were  treated  as  though  they 
were  angels  in  disguise.  The  monster  of  heresy  exemplified 
the  beauties  of  charity,  and  the  paragon  of  orthodoxy  illus- 
trated the  ugliness  of  suspicion.  Don  was  almost  ready  to 
become  a  heretic  again.  But  as  heresy  is  fanned  to  its  highest 
by  opposition  and  as  there  was  no  one  to  oppose  him,  he  let 
his  thoughts  run  in  the  grooves  that  had  been  channeled  out 
by  the  forefathers. 

His  thoughts  were  diverted  from  the  blank  reception  he 
had  experienced  by  a  discovery  which  was  far  more  aggravat- 
ing than  the  contempt  he  had  been  made  the  subject  of  at  the 
hands  of  a  "dominie."  .  ^• 

In  passing  up  one  of  the  by  streets  he  stopped  to  look  into 
the  show  window  of  a  pawn  broker's  shop.  The  first  objects 
that  his  eyes  rested  upon  were  his  nine  books,  his  Bible,  his 
flute  and  the  very  garments  he  so  much  needed  to  improve  his 
appearance  while  making  the  rounds  in  search  of  work.  The 
thieves  who  robbed  him  while  he  lay  unconscious  on  the  rail- 
road track  had  used  the  check  for  the  trunk,  and  had  then 


juiili"*^'* 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


145 


ippered, 

c  ought 

lessons 

le  menl 

s?    Ten 

n  Paul 

ut  out  of 

spent  in 

And    he 

ortunate 

of  being 

igh  they 

emplified 

)xy  illus- 

ready  to 

:s  highest 

m,  he  let 

neled  out 

jption  he 

iggravat- 

of  at  the 

look  into 
3t  objects 
Bible,  his 
prove  his 
rk.  The 
I  the  rail- 
had  then 


disposed  of  the  contents  to  the  Jew,  who  now  had  them 
ticketed  for  sale. 

Without  thinking  of  the  difficulty  in  the  way  of  regaining 
his  things,  Don  hastened  into  the  shop  and  demanded  to  know 
how  they  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Jew. 

"It  ish  none  of  your  pizzness,"  was  the  defiant  reply,  given 
after  the  Jew  had  surveyed  Don  from  head  to  feet. 

"It  is  my  business;  they  were  stolen  from  me,"  said  Don, 
angrily. 

"You  vas  get  out  of  this,  or  I  vill  put  you  out,"  threatened 
the  Jew,  advancing  upon  him  as  if  to  lay  hands  upon  him. 

Seeing  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  his  approaches,  Don 
left  the  shop,  and  although  he  thought  he  had  little  to  hope  for 
from  a  policeman,  he  spoke  to  one  who  was  passing  and 
informed  him  of  his  discovery,  and  the  circumstances  leading 
to  the  loss  of  the  trunk.  Impressed  by  the  straightforward 
account  given,  the  officer  turned  back  and  went  with  him  to 
the  Jew's  window. 

But  the  Jew  had  seen  Don  conversing  with  the  officer,  and, 
surmising  his  purpose,  he  gave  orders  to  have  the  things 
removed  and  concealed.  Don  was  confounded  by  their  dis- 
appearance. The  officer,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
tricks  of  this  branch  of  business,  said:  "You  should  have 
come  to  me  first;  he  has  taken  advantage  of  the  warning  you 
gave  to  put  your  things  out  of  sight.  Nothing  but  a  search 
warrant  would  be  available  now,  and  even  that  might  fail. 
Besides,  in  a  case  like  this,  no  law  can  be  set  in  motion  without 
money,  and  I  judge  from  your  appearance  and  from  your  story 
that  you  have  nothing  to  throw  away  on  law  officers  and 
methods." 

"No,  indeed;  I  see  that  I  can  do  nothing,"  said  Don 
despairingly.  ■   ":  -^'^  J  .   "•*'      '<    ■ 


^ 


Wc 


■i"*r-i'  Trpf . 


^m^- 


m 


146 


AIR    OASTLE    DON 


The  officer  left  him  to  battle  with  this  new  misfortune  and 
disappointment  as  best  he  miglit.  As  he  stood  in  front  of  the 
window  aimless  and  miserable,  the  Jew  came  out  and  with  a 
malicious  leer  said:  "If  you  vas  see  something  you  like,  I 
schall  sell  it  to  you  cheap  as  dirt,  you  vas  so  very  smart." 

His  victim  moved  on,  feeling  as  though  he  had  been  stung 
by  an  adder,  while  the  Jew,  after  watching  him  a  moment,  went 
inside  and  made  merry  at  the  clever  way  in  which  he  had  out- 
witted both  the  officer  and  the  boy. 

But  a  grim  spirit  of  endurance  was  developing  in  Don. 
He  remembered  seeing  the  trees  of  the  forest  bending  beneath 
the  accumulations  of  repeated  snow  storms,  and  then  resuming 
their  native  erectness  when  the  load  melted  away,  and  he 
thought  to  himself:  "In  spite  of  these  things,  I'll  not  break 
yet  awhile." 

On  Sunday  he  went  into  the  humblest  church  edifice  he 
could  find  in  the  hope  of  picking  some  crumb  of  comfort  from 
the  services.  An  usher  met  him  as  he  entered,  but  instead  of 
conducting  him  to  a  pew,  he  placed  a  chair  for  him  against  the 
back  wall  of  the  audience  room.  Don  bowed  his  thanks  with 
the  formality  of  Chesterfield,  and  smiled  in  spite  of  the  insult. 
The  usher  saw  him  smile,  and,  taking  it  as  a  proof  of  depravity, 
regretted  that  he  had  not  directed  the  unwelcome  visitor  to  go 
away  till  his  bruised  face  looked  less  pugilistic  and  his  clothes 
less  like  the  rags  of  a  vagabond.  The  elephant  is  a  gigantic 
beast,  yet  it  is  thrown  into  mortal  terror  at  the  sight  of  a 
mouse;  society  is  a  mighty  creature,  yet  the  too  near  approach 
of  a  soul  that  is  not  clothed  according  to  the  fashion  plates 
throws  it  into  spasms. 

The  minister,  an  aged  gentle-looking  man,  won  Don's 
heart,  and  for  a  moment  he  wished  that  he  could  unburden 
himself  to  him.     His  experience  with  The  Reverend  John  Paul 


rtune  and 
ont  of  the 
nd  with  a 
ou  like,  I 
mart." 
teen  stung 
nent,  went 
e  had  out- 

S  in  Don. 
ig  beneath 
I  resuming 
y,  and  he 
not  break 


Allt    OASTLE    nON 


147 


L«vejoy,  D.  D.,  alias  The  Rev.  Theophilus  Thistle,  the  thistle 
sifter,  came  to  mind  with  such  depressing  force,  that  he 
repressed  the  desire,  and  although  the  service  was  as  balm  to 
his  wounds,  he  went  out  determined  to  bear  his  own  burden 
until  such  time  as  God  himself  should  see  fit  to  cut  the  bands 
which  bound  it  to  his  back.  - 


edifice  he 
mfort  from 
:  instead  of 
against  the 
hanks  with 

the  insult. 
f  depravity, 
isitor  to  go 
his  clothes 
a  gigantic 
sight  of  a 
r  approach 
bion  plates 


•  -<r        i 


von  Don's 

unburden 

John  Paul 


iJMM«i^fi> 


CHAPTKR   XV. 


«» 


SPIRITS   IN  PRISON. 


■ 


That  night  Don  slept  under  a  liedge  in  the  public  park. 
In  the  morning  he  put  himself  upon  an  allowance  of  one  sand- 
wich a  day ;  half  of  it  to  be  eaten  for  breakfast  and  the  other 
half  for  dinner  and  supper,  for  the  roundhouse  fund  was 
reduced  to  thirty-six  cents. 

"What  shall  I  do  when  niy  money  is  gone?"  Don  asked  the 
question  with  fear  and  trembling.  And  this  very  question  is 
daily  asked  by  tens  of  thousands  with  feelings  bordering  on 
agony  and  despair.  The  inability  to  ignore  a  dread  uncer- 
tainty is  the  foimtain  head  of  much  of  the  bitterness  that  wells 
up  from  tho  heart  of  humanity.  Wrong  itself  is  oftentimes 
but  the  outburst  of  tlic  sufF'.  i  ing  produced  by  this  uncertainty. 

By  ten  o'clock  liie  clouds  with  which  the  day  began  poured 
i'own  floodj  which  carried  the  filth  of  the  city  in  roaring 
strrams  into  the  Hudson  river.  The  rain  continued  the  rest 
c.  he  day  ;<vd  well  along  toward  midnight.  In  spite  of  all  he 
could  do  Don  became  drenched  to  the  skin  and  chilled  to  the 
bone.  Becoming  desperate,  he  asked  a  policeman  to  direct 
him  to  some  station  where  he  would  be  allowed  to  remain 
during  the  night.  The  policeman  had  not  been  able  to  make 
any  arrests  during  the  day  as  trophies  of  his  vigilance,  and  he 
gladly  took  his  applicant  in  charge  as  prisoner  and  led  him 
away.     A  few  minutes  after,  Don,  now  thoroughly  alarmed, 

('48) 


I     iiN'M'p  »     I    ■"■■■■H  ■    lll.li-''- 


AIR    0A8TI.R    DON 


•jiiyY'wyr  I  t  in{0  m}fHf*' 


149 


iblic  park, 
one  sand- 
the  other 
fund  was 

I  asked  the 
question  is 
rdering  on 
:ad  uncer- 
i  that  wells 
oftentimes 
nccrtainty. 
fan  poured 
in  roaring 
;d  the  rest 
te  of  all  he 
lied  to  the 
I  to  direct 
to  remain 
e  to  make 
ce,  and  he 
d  led  him 
r  alarmed, 


It 


was  arraigned  before  the  station  desk  and  recorded  upon  the 
police  blotter  under  headings  which  described  him  as  a 
vagrant,  suspicious  character,  and  as  one  who  should  be  sent 
to  the  workhouse. 

He  was  led  up  stairs  and  locked  in  a  narrow  cell  to  which 
mice,  roachts  and  rats  had  been  accustomed  to  have  free  access 
in  no  small  numbers  as  they  prowled  around  in  search  of 
crumbs  scattered  about  by  the  prisoners.  A  bare  plank  served 
the  purpose  of  a  bed.  There  were  fourteen  prisoners  in  the 
adjoining  colls;  three  fallen  women,  one  girl,  two  boys  and  the 
rest  men.  Don's  appearance  was  the  signal  for  many  ironical 
remarks  and  salutations,  which  increased  to  profanity  and 
obscenity  when  he  persisted  in  keeping  silent.  When  the 
officer  left  the  corrider  one  of  the  prisoners  began  to  sing 
snatches  of  a  ribald  song,  the  chorus  of  which  was  joined  in 
with  great  gusto  by  the  others.  Then  came  a  violent  verbal 
quarrel  between  two  of  the  women  who  were  confined  in  one 
cell  and  who  were  partly  intoxicated;  this  was  accompanied  by 
highly  seasoned  comments  made  by  the  other  prisoners. 
During  the  height  of  the  quarrel,  a  male  voice,  full,  clear  and 
comparatively  well  cultivated,  and  which  had  not  been  heard 
before,  began  to  sing  one  of  Thomas  Hood's  well  known  melo- 
dies. The  words,  so  strangely  out  of  place,  and  so  immedi- 
ately telling  in  their  effects  upon  the  prisoners  began  with: 

.      ,,  "I  remember,  T  remember,  ••, 

The  house  where  I  was  born,  ,,  • 

,      :',    The  little  window  where  the  sun 
'      ; .    Came  peeping  in  at  morn' ;  ^     ■ .    • 

He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon,  .       .'   > . 

Nor  brought  too  long  a  day,  .:       . 

But  now  I  often  wish  the  night  ' 

Had  borne  my  breath  away!"  '    '  •    '  - 


160 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


Continuing  through  the  second  and  third  verses  without 
faltering,  the  singer  followed  with  the  fourth: 

"I  remember,  I  remember 
The  fir  trees  dark  and  high; 
I  used  to  think  their  slender  top4 
Were  close  against  the  sky; 
It  was  a  childish  ignorance, 
But  now  'tis  little  joy 
To  know  I'm  further  off  from  Heaven 
Than  when  I  was  a  boy." 

During  the  singing  there  were  no  interruptions;  at  the 
close  someone  was  sobbing.  During  the  remainder  of  the 
night  there  was  an  unbroken  silence,  save  when  fitful  dreams 
wrung  from  ruined  souls  fragmentary  revelation  of  passion, 
crime  and  remorse.  The  words  of  the  song  sent  Don's 
thoughts  bounding  homeward,  but  he  was  greatly  solaced  to 
know  that  he  was  not  in  prison  for  crime  or  any  fault  of  his 
own,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  realized  that  a  good 
conscience  is  better  than  a  great  fortune. 

In  the  morning,  in  company  with  the  other  prisoners,  he 
was  marched  to  the  police  court  to  be  arraigned  before  the 
police  judge.  Rapid  as  was  the  disposal  of  the  pnsoners,  the 
judge  was  a  man  of  keen  discernment  and  impartial  justice. 
After  a  few  preliminary  questions  to  Don,  he  silenced  the 
accusing  policeman,  ignored  the  record  of  the  blotter,  and 
pursuing  his  examination  elicited  from  the  victim  of  circum- 
stances a  brief  and  transparent  account  of  his  misfortune. 

"You  are  honorably  discharged,"  he  said  at  the  close;  and 
then  with  great  kindness,  added:  "I  am  sorry  for  you,  my 
lad,  and  I  advise  you  to  employ  all  your  energy  in  getting 
back  to  your  home  and  friends.  Vou  are  far  too  young  to 
attempt  to  face  the  world  alone." 


■1 


mmm 


'.'■';?!»  VS'.M'Kf'JB**'"'^ 


-sr^fjvnm,m  y'jf.H'g'*-'* 


"""^•"T: 


^^^ 


es  without 


>ns;  at  the 
der  of  the 
tful  dreams 
of  passion, 
sent  Don's 
solaced  to 
fault  of  his 
hat  a  good 

■isoners,  he 

before  the 
isoners,  the 
tial  justice, 
ilenced  the 
»lotter,  and 

of  circum- 
>rtune. 

close;  and 
)r  you,  my 

in  getting 
>  young  to 


Ain   0A8TLB.  DON 


161 


The  next  case,  and  the  last  on  the  docket,  was  a  stranded 
actor,  who  proved  to  be  the  man  who  sung  Hood's  words. 
He  had  been  taken  in  in  precisely  the  same  way  that  Don  was, 
and  was  discharged  by  the  judge  without  hesitation.  The  two 
passed  out  together,  and  had  no  sooner  reached  the  outside  of 
the  station  than  the  actor,  touching  Don  on  the  shoulder, 
assumed  a  tragic  air  and  recited  the  words  of  Hamlet: 

"To  be,  or  not  to  be — that  is  the  question— 
Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune. 
Or  to  take  arms  a.rainst  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them?    To  die— to  sleep- 
No  more ;  and  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 
The  heartache,  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  heir  to — 'tis  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wished." 

"Don  Donalds,"  he  continued  in 'the  same  farcically  tragic 
manner,  "we  have  breakfasted  on  prison  fare;  now  whither 
shall  we  go  to  dine  and  wine?  But  I  forgot;  methinks  our 
purses  are  but  filled  with  empty  air,  if  purses  we  possess,  and 
empty  air  is  only  fit  for  disembodied  spirits,  whose  unsubstan- 
tial pulp  makes  teeth  and  stomach  superfluous  encumbrances." 
Taking  Don  by  the  hand  he  shook  it  gravely,  adding :  "Fare- 
well to  you  where  e'er  you  go.  And,  alas!  a  long  farewell  to 
ail  my  greatness,  for  I  no  revenue  have,  but  my  good  spirits 
to  feed  and  clothe  me.  I'm  but  a  pipe  for  Fortune's  finger 
to  sound  what  stop  she  pleases." 

The  eccentric  and  unfortunate  actor  had  so  much  theatrical 
bric-a-brac  stowed  away  in  his  brain  that  common  sense  could 
not  find  even  standing  room.  But  the  pathetic  wail  he  sung 
on  that  eventful  night  in  prison,  and  the  spell  of  good  it  cast 
upon  the  occupants  of  the  cells,  Don  could  never  forget  to  his 
dying  day.    As  soon  as  he  was  well  clear  of  the  actor  he  turned 


- — vi-isaMsi&aBScsasij.s-'— ;^ 


*wfeii  III  'I  fi  I'mtil'^lli 


AIR    OASTLE    DON 


his  footsteps  toward  the  river  determined  to  act  upon  the 
advice  of  the  kindhearted  judge  so  far  as  he  could.  To  leave 
Albany  and  to  return  to  Boston  was  now  his  all  absorbing  aim. 
He  started  along  the  railway  leading  from  Greenbush  with 
three  sandwiches  and  a  few  cents  in  his  pocket.  The  pure, 
sweet  free  air  of  the  country  was  an  inspiration  to  him.  At 
noon  he  dined  on  a  sandwich  and  a  fresh  turnip  which  he 
found  by  the  roadside.  At  intervals  during  the  day  he  met 
tramps  who,  at  that  season  of  the  year  infested  the  entire 
length  of  the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad.  Few  passed  him 
without  attempting  to  enter  into  conversation.  Most  of  them 
were  dangerous  looking  men.  Now  and  then  he  came  upon 
boys  who  appeared  to  be  younger  than  himself.  He  became 
disquieted  with  the  thought  that  he  was  hovering  dangerously 
near  the  borders  of  tramp  life,  that  bottomless  pit  over  which 
is  written:     "Abandon  all  hope,  ye  who  enter  here." 

By  dark  he  was  in  sight  of  the  lights  of  Pittsfieid,  and  being 
footsore  and  weary,  he  began  to  look  for  something  that  would 
serve  as  a  shelter  for  the  night.  A  lone  haystack  in  a  secluded 
field  looked  invitingly  attractive  and  he  burrowed  into  the  side 
that  was  farthest  from  the  railroad,  and  there,  congratulating 
himself  upon  his  surroundings  as  contrasted  with  those  of  the 
prison  of  the  previous  night,  he  fell  into  a  peaceful  sleep. 

He  had  not  been  long  asleep  when  he  was  awakened  by  the 
voices  of  two  tramps  who  were  taking  their  lodgings  in  the 
opposite  side  of  the  stack,  and  making  the  air  smell  rank  to 
Heaven  with  the  offense  of  the  rankest  kind  of  tobacco  smoke. 
As  they  soon  became  quiet,  and  were  evidently  unsuspicious 
of  his  own  presence  he  again  composed  himself  for  slumber. 
This  time  he  dreamed  of  hell  and  with  such  a  vivid  sense  of 
actual  flames  of  torment  that  he  awoke  in  terror.  The  stack 
was  a  mass  of  flames  and  at  the  instant  of  his  escape  toppled 


ihJJfcBh.) 


,„■»  .«. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


f./t  -^""W'- 


im 


upon  the 
To  leave 
bing  aim. 
)ush  with 
The  pure, 
lim.  At 
which  he 
y  he  met 
he  entire 
issed  him 
It  of  them 
ime  upon 
e  became 
ngerously 
ver  which 

and  being 
hat  would 
a  secluded 
:o  the  side 
ratulating 
ose  of  the 
sleep, 
led  by  the 
igs  in  the 
11  rank  to 
CO  smoke, 
suspicious 
•  slumber. 
1  sense  of 
The  stack 
»e  toppled 


over  on  the  side  occupied  by  the  tramps  whose  pipes  were 
evidently  responsible  for  the  disaster.  He  could  find  no  trace 
of  the  men  and  never  knew  whether  they  escaped  or  were 
incinerated  in  the  flames. 

The  red  dawn  was  breaking  in  the  East  and  he  resumed  his 
journey  on  the  road,  and  happily  escaped  being  called  to 
answer  for  the  destruction  of  the  stack.  The  sun  was  just  ris- 
ing when  he  entered  Pittsfield.  As  he  was  walking  among  the 
freight  trains  assembled  on  the  network  of  tracks  belonging 
to  the  freight  yard,  and  was  in  the  act  of  passing  a  locomotive 
he  was  amazed,  yet  inexpressibly  pleased  to  hear  someone  in 
the  cab  say: 

"Hello,  Don  Donalds!  Where  in  time  did  you  come  from? 
Have  you  turned  tramp?"  And  almost  before  he  could 
recover  from  his  astonishment,  honest  Jake  Cullum  of  the 
roundhouse  in  Greenbush  was  shaking  him  by  the  hand  and 
poring  out  a  mixed  volley  of  exclamations  and  questions. 

The  engineer  was  also  one  of  the  roundhouse  saints,  and 
leaning  from  his  cab  he  hailed  Don  as  cordially  and  with  as 
much  interest  as  his  fireman  had  done.  "Your  eye  is  getting 
better,"  he  said,  "and  your  cheek  will  be  all  right  as  soon  as 
the  scab  comes  oflf,  but  your  duds  seem  to  be  losing  what  your 
skin  has  gained,  though  Bob  Flanger's  hat  sticks  to  you  like 
a  true  friend.    What  have  you  been  doing  since  you  left  us?" 

i.y  this  time  the  conductor  of  the  freight  came  near,  and  as 
Don,  in  answer  to  questions,j.''related  his  experience,"  several 
other  men  who,  besides  Jake's  train,  were  waiting  for  a 
belated  passenger  train,  gathered  around  and  listened  to  what 
was  going  on. 

Don  was  so  elated  at  the  idea  of  being  among  friends 
again  that  he  gave  quite  a  humorous  twist  to  his  account  of  his 
sorrows.     Nevertheless  more  than  one  eye  was  dimmed  by 


.mM 


1. 1  ■■:..■-,.  J -'Auiai 


'  f 


154 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


moisture,  and  several  strong  expletives  dropped  from  the  lips 
of  the  men  in  expression  of  the  sympathy  they  felt. 

"If  I  had  the  handling  of  some  of  thdse  Albany  chaps," 
said  Jake,  "I'd  make  them  drink  tar  for  a  week  and  then  throw 
them  into  the  firebox  of  my  engine  for  fuel." 

"Going  to  Boston,  are  you?"  asked  the  conductor,  and  on 
Don's  answering  in  the  affirmative,  he  added:  "But  don'f  you 
know  that  in  attempting  to  walk  that  distance  you  place  your- 
self in  danger  of  becoming  a  regular  member  of  the  tramp 
brigade?" 

"Let's  give  him  a  jog  on  our  train,"  said  Jake  eagerly;  "I 
know  it's  against  the  rules  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  so 
many  rules  have  been  broken  for  the  crushing  of  the  boy,  it's 
high  time  that  some  were  broken  for  the  sake  of  saving  him. 
It  takes  a  tough  one  to  walk  from  here  to  Boston,  and  he'd 
starve  to  death  or  die  in  his  tracks  before  he  got  over  half  the 
distance." 

"I  guess  we  can  fix  it,"  said  the  conductor. 

"And  like  enough  lose  your  situation  for  your  pains,  for 
just  now  the  spotters  of  the  company  are  keeping  a  sharp  eye 
upon  us,"  remarked  a  cautious  yardman  who,  while  he  was  as 
much  concerned  for  Don  as  any  of  them,  did  not  wish  to  see 
the  conductor  compromise  himself  by  carrying  a  passenger 
without  authority. 

"Put  him  in  a  box  car,  and  carry  him  as  far  as  Worcester, 
the  end  of  our  run,"  suggested  Jake. 

"That's  talking  United  States!"  exclaimed  a  brakeman; 
"it  can  be  done  as  easy  as  swearing," 

"No,"  interrupted  Don,  decidedly.  "I'm  going  to  Boston 
honestly,  or  not  at  all.  No  rules  shall  be  broken  on  my 
account.  It  would  not  only  place  me  in  the  wrong  by  making 
a  railway  sneak  of  me,  but  it  would  place  everyone  on  the 


'!T7.^y<!i!\y'";yys^y';'/j.''i- J!,.^'M  t.  »'♦;■!  r-  • 


the  lips 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


train  in  the  wrong,  and  that  is  altogetlier  too  big  a  price  to 
pay  for  a  railroad  ride." 

"The  youngster  is  right  —  sound  hearted  to  the  core," 
replied  the  conductor,  but  I  didn't  propose  to  help  him  on  by 
running  the  rules  out;  there's  too  much  risk  in  doing  that. 
My  brother  is  head  man  at  headquarters,  and  I'll  telegraph  to 
him  about  the  whole  business;  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  will 
telegraph  an  order  here  for  a  ticket  for  at  least  a  part  of  the 
distance." 

The  conductor,  after  being  absent  fifteen  minutes,  came 
back  and  handed  Don  a  ticket  from  Pittsiield  to  Boston  on 
second  class.  "There,"  said  he,  as  joyfully  as  if  Don  were  his 
own  relative,  "that  will  save  your  shoe  leather,  and  what  is  of 
more  consequence,  it  will  keep  you  from  getting  mixed  up 
with  the  lousy  tramps.  Now  you'd  better  scramble  off  to  the 
passenger  station  for  number  five  will  soon  be  here." 

Don  couldn't  find' many  words  to  voice  his  gratitude — he 
was  too  deeply  moved  for  that,  but  he  found  his  feet  fast 
enough  and  set  them  in  rapid  motion  for  the  passenger  station. 
Jake  was  so  glad  for  the  boy  that  he  jumped  upon  his  engine 
and  with  the  connivance  of  his  engineer  and  conductor,  sent 
out  a  series  of  parting  shrieks  from  his  engines  that  excited  the 
wonder  of  the  yard  and  town,  and  awoke  the  echoes  of  the 
hills  far  and  near. 

"There,"  he  growled  with  satisfaction,  "that's  against  the 
rules,  too,  but  I'll  be  darned  if  it  isn't  time  for  something  to 
be  broken  for  a  chap  that's  as  true  blue  as  the  sky,  and  that's 
been  knocked  about  like  a  tin  can  tied  to  a  dog's  tail." 

The  engineer  laughed,  and  then  suddenly  exclaimed  with 
a  look  of  annoyance:  "By  Jove,  we've  played  the  fool  after 
all!" 

"How?"  asked  the  fireman,  surprised. 


':^*.>*--.^i-; 


■Aiks&!a 


||  "!*!•>•.■■■■■ 


156 


AIR    CASTLE    r>ON 


r 


"We  forgot  the  collection,  and  that's  enough  to  knock  the 
bottom  out  of  all  our  preaching." 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  sighed  the  fireman,  aghast  at  the 
omission.  "That's  as  bad  as  sending  a  ship  to  sea  without 
any  provision.     But  look  here!     It  isn't  too  late  yet." 

"Yes,  it  is.  There's  number  five  now,  and  she'll  pull  out 
before  we  can  get  down  to  the  station."      > 

"That  won't  make  any  difference  if  we're  in  earnest.  Let's 
make  up  two  dollars  and  telegraph  next  station  to  give  it  to 
him,  and  we'll  pay  as  we  go  through." 

"You  are  level  headed  Jake,  sure."         '  ■ 

So  the  amount  was  made  up.  and  the  conductor  again  called 
into  use,  wired :  "Find  boy  in  second  class,  number  five,  with 
bruised  eye  and  cheek  and  give  him  two  dollars.  Will  refund 
as  we  come  along.     His  name  is  Don  Donalds." 

When  number  five  stopped  at  next  station,  Don  was 
alarmed  as  well  as  amazed,  when  a  man,  who  was  evidently  in 
a  hurry,  confronted  him  with  the  question:  "Is  your  name 
Don  Donalds?" 

On  receiving  confirmation  of  his  conjecture,  he  gave  Don 
the  telegram  to  read,  and  without  further  ceremony  handed 
him  two  dollars,  and  hurried  away,  for  the  train  was  already 
beginning  to  move. 

With  the  telegram  and  money  in  hand,  it  did  not  take  Don 
long  to  unfathom  the  mystery.  His  money  was  all  gone  with 
the  exception  of  ten  cents,  and  the  two  dollars  dissipated  a  new 
cloud  of  anxiety  that  was  beginning  to  settle  upon  him. 

"God  bless  them,"  he  said.  "They  don'i  wear  velvet  slip- 
pers, silk  dressing  gowns  and  white  chokers,  like  The  Rever- 
end John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  but  they  are  solid  gold  while 
he  is  only  gilt-brass." 


^ii 


■^aatli^iteitamsmtllm 


■    '.V: 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


A  PBRPLBXBD  PAMILT. 

"It  is  fourteen  days  since  Don  left  us,"  said  Bert  to  his 
mother  in  the  presence  of  Nora,  "and  I  haven't  had  a  word 
from  him  yet.  He  promised  to  write  to  me  the  first  day  after 
his  arrival  in  Albany,  and  I  supposed  that  his  promise  was  as 
good  as  a  fact.  I  never  was  more  disappointed  in  a  fellow  in 
iny  life.    It  is  a  shabby  way  to  treat  one's  best  friend." 

"You  are  not  his  best  friend  if  you  begin  to  think  mean 
things  about  him,"  Nora  replied  with  a  good  deal  of  earnest- 
ness. "There  must  be  some  reason  for  his  silence,  and  you 
ought  to  wait  before  you  condemn  him." 

The  little  mother  sided  with  Nora;  she  was  getting  anxious 
about  Don,  but  she  had  kept  her  thoughts  to  herself.  Now, 
she  involuntarily  expressed  herself  by  saying:  "I  hope 
nothing  serious  has  happened  to  him;  he  certainly  would  have 
written  you  had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  do  so." 

At  the  bare  thought  of  harm  to  his  attic  chum  Bert's  loy- 
alty reasserted  itself,  and  he  said:  "I  am  shabby  myself  to 
suspect  him  of  being  shabby.  He  is  high  spirited  and  proud, 
and  it  is  more  than  likely  that,  failing  to  find  anything  to  do, 
he  has  run  short  of  money  and  has  put  off  writing  until  he 
could  give  a  good  account  of  himself." 

"ShOi*^  of  money,  and  in  a  strange  city!"  exclaimed  Nora, 

(157) 


i 


Mi-  M«f-l-^^i.taStu 


rilriTl  A;  iiiiiiiii-f  V  liir'iiiii-'iltiif''' 


158 


AIR    OASTLK    DON 


horrified  by  the  thought.    "What  will  he  do?    What  can  he 
do  without  money?" 

"If  he  is  short  of  money,  that's  all  the  more  reason  why  be 
should  have  written.  I  have  five  dollars  that  he  might  have 
just  as  well  as  not,"  said  Bert. 

"And  I  have  sixty-five  cents  that  could  be  added  to  it," 
said  Nora.  "Can't  we  send  it  to  him  without  waiting  to  hear 
from  him?" 

"We  haven't  his  address,"  Bert  replied,  "and  besides,  for 
aught  we  know,  he  may  have  started  for  that  horrid  Chicago 
and  gone  to  work  gathering  prairie  dogs  and  rattles  from  the 
rattle  snakes  to  bring  back  to  us.  He  is  a  great  fellow  for  the 
country  and  country  curiosities,  you  know."  And  Bert  spoke 
without  the  sign  of  a  smile. 

"You  are  just  awful  to  make  light  of  such  a  serious  thing!" 
said  Nora  quite  angrily. 

"Let  us  wait  a  few  days,"  the  widow  suggested  soothingly. 
"We  may  hear  good  news  from  him  yet." 

But  Nora  was  not  to  be  pacified.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life  the  thought  of  being  without  money  had  come  to  her  in  all 
its  dread  significance,  and  she  kept  asking:  "What  can  he  do 
without  money?"  Getting  no  satisfactory  answer,  she  went  to 
her  room  and  throwing  herself  upon  the  bed,  she  sobbed  till 
both  her  tears  and  her  apprehensions  were  exhausted. 

On  Saturday  afternoons  she  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  pro- 
tracted airings  on  the  Common.  Miss  Arabella  Belinda  Agin- 
court  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  the  same  thing.  Each  one 
preferred  the  Beacon  Mall,  where  the  noblest  elms  swayed 
their  branches  in  umbrageous  glory,  and  the  nobbiest  people 
displayed  their  attire  in  all  its  gay  diversity,  whilst  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  common  people  mixed  among  them,  or  sat 
upon  the  seats  of  the  mall  to  watch  and  to  make  their  demo- 


'n 


It^iimSmaSmSm 


^^gc^ 


:=£±-±±:i--^,i:i£^ 


r^r'i^.'^th^^t.S'* 


AIU    OABTLB    DON 


109 


cratic  comments  upon   the  pageantry  of  fashion  and  the 
grandeur  of  uplifted  noses. 

The  day  following  the  family  council  about  Don  was  Sat- 
urday, and  Nora  went  out  to  take  her  usual  afternoon  prom- 
enade among  the  elect  or  elite,  the  two  words  amounting  to 
the  same  thing  in  the  mental  eye  of  the  world.  She  had  but 
just  reached  the  favorite  mall  when  she  met  Miss  Agincourt 
face  to  face,  and  remembering  the  part  she  had  played  as  Don's 
evil  genius,  Nora  gave  her  a  succession  of  glances  that  were 
eloquently  contemptuous  and  vindictive. 

Being  arrayed  and  powdered  to  the  fullest  extent  of  her 
resources,  Miss  Agincourt  looked  down  upon  the  little,  plainly 
dressed  girl  with  pitying  complacency.  Seeing  that  the  old 
maid  was  not  annihilated  by  her  withering  eye-volleys,  Nora 
turned  and  followed  behind  her  and  took  her  full  measure  of 
vengeance  by  making  malicious  comments  to  herself  upon  the 
attire  of  Don's  enemy.  Not  content  with  this,  she  mimicked 
her  min«.!n«;  gait  to  such  an  extent  that  those  near  watched  the 
artful  pantomime  with  great  amusement,  and  in  some  instances 
with  open  laughter.  It  was  surely  a  very  unbecoming  piece 
of  conduct  for  a  little  saint  who  could  quote  Scripture  so  con- 
tinuously and  appropriately,  and  all  the  more  unbecoming, 
because  the  victim  of  this  spontaneous  malice  was  unaware  of 
what  was  going  on  behind  her. 

Suddenly  Nora  uttered  a  suppressed  cry  of  pain  and  imme- 
diately started  for  home,  where  she  arrived  pale,  and  panting 
from  the  effects  of  her  haste.  Miss  Agincourt  just  as  suddenly 
changed  her  course  and  made  her  way  directly  to  the  counting 
room  of  Wickworth  &  Co.,  into  which  she  had  no  sooner 
entered  than  she  said  to  the  colonel,  who  happened  to  be  alone: 
"That  Donalds  boy  has  turned  out  just  as  I  expected.  He 
didn't  leave  the  city  as  you  supposed.     I  have  just  seen  him 


■1 


160 


Ain    CASTLE    DON 


sitting  on  one  of  the  seats  of  Beacon  Mall,  and  a  more  hard- 
ened and  disreputable  looking  boy  I  have  never  seen." 

"You  must  be  mistaken,"  said  the  colonel  severely,  for  he 
had  not  forgiven  his  relative's  interference  in  Don's  case, 
"lie  certainly  left  the  city  for  Albany." 

"I  am  not  mistaken,"  she  replied,  meeting  her  uncle's 
severe  gaze  with  a  touch  of  defiance.  "Notwithstanding  his 
dreadful  hat  and  clothes  and  a  big  scab  on  his  cheek,  I 
recognized  him  as  certainly  as  I  now  recognize  you.  He 
looked  as  dissipated  as  if  he  had  been  bumming  about  the  city 
ever  since  he  left  the  store.  And  he  recognized  me,  for  the 
moment  his  eye  met  mine,  he  jumped  up  irom  the  seat  and  fairly 
ran  away.  He  lied  to  you  about  leaving  the  city,  just  as  he 
lied  to  you  about  his  board  bill." 

"IT'  Id  the  truth  about  his  board  bill;  and  I  happen  to 
K.ow  by  the  testimony  of  Bert  \Villian>s,  who  saw  him  board 
the  Albany  train,  that  he  ])urchascd  a  ticket  for  Albany  with 
part  of  the  money  that  I  gave  him  when  he  left  us.  That  boy 
is  no  liar,  and  if  you  have  seen  him,  as  you  say  you  have,  he 
has  been  unfortunate.  And  instead  of  following  him  up  with 
your  unfounded  suspicions,  you  should  have  accused  yourself 
as  being  in  part  responsible  for  his  misfortune,  and  should  have 
spoken  to  him  and  tried  to  put  yourself  in  the  way  of  making 
some  reparation  for  the  serious  injury  you  did  him.  It  is  no 
small  crime  to  In  instrumental  in  casting  a  cloud  upon  an 
innocent  boy's  future.  I  shall  Ik  uneasy  about  him  until  I 
hear  more  of  him,  and  if  I  had  any  clue  to  him  I  should  try  to 
find  him.  I  have  been  worrying  about  him  ever  since  he  left 
here,  for  the  more  I  have  thought  about  him,  the  more  I  have 
been  convinced  of  his  worth  and  of  the  harm  that  has  come  to 
him  through  your  impertinent  meddling  with  things  that  did 
not  concern  you."    As  usual  with  the  colonel  when  he  became 


^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


m 


indignant  enougli  to  use  the  wtiip,  tlie  sting  was  in  the  end  of 

the  lash. 

Miss  Aginrourt,  growing  red  in  the  face,  said:  "If  the 
deacon  were  here,  he'd  protect  me  from  your  insults." 

"I  mean  no  insult,  but  if  he  were  here  I'd  say  the  same 
things,  and  possibly,  if  he  joined  with  you,  I  should  say 
harsher  things  than  I  have  already  uttered." 

Miss  Agincourt  hurried  away  in  no  amiable  temper,  and 
she  had  no  sooner  closed  the  door  behind  her  than  the  colonel 
gave  vent  to  his  annoyance  by  using  some  hot  Mexican  War 
expressions,  which  might  burn  through  the  paper  if  they  were 
put  down  in  black  and  white. 

When  Nora  reached  home  she  was  so  excited  she  could 
scarcely  control  herself:  "Oh,  mother,"  she  began,  "I  have 
seen  Don,  and  such  a  wretched  sight  as  he  was,  was  enough 
to  break  one's  heart." 

"Control  yourself,  my  dear;  you  certainly  must  be  mis- 
taken," said  the  little  mother,  alarmed  at  her  child's  agitation, 
and  no  less  so  at  what  she  said. 

"Oh,  mother,  I  did  see  him!  And  that  hateful  Agincourt 
saw  him  as  plainly  as  I  did;  aivl  I  saw  the  wicked  sneer  that 
came  to  her  face  when  she  recognized  him.  Don  looked  per- 
fectly dreadful!  He  had  an  old  hat  on  that  '>  >oked  as  if  it  had 
been  picked  up  in  somebody's  back  yard.  And  there  was  a 
great  scab  en  his  cheek.  And  there  he  sat  without  a  collar, 
and  his  shirt  looked  the  color  of  the  walk  beneath  his  feet. 
His  clothes  were  dreadfully  soiled,  and  torn  besides;  and  his 
shoes  were  nearly  worn  out,  and  you  know  1,  \v  particular  he 
was  iibout  his  dress  and  looks.  He  saw  me,  too,  and  when  I 
started  to  go  toward  him,  his  face  turned  red  and  he  ran  away 
from  me.  I  believe  that  he  has  walked  all  the  way  back  from 
Albany  and  that  someone  has  been  pound  aig  him,  or  that  he 


twna 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 

lias  met  with  some  dreadful  accident,  and  that  he  was  su 
ashamed  of  his  appearance  that  he  didn't  want  nu:  to  spiaii  to 
liim.  Oil,  if  he  had  only  waited  for  me  I  would  have  brought 
him  home  with  me,  even  if  all  Boston  had  stared  at  us!" 
And  Nora,  exhausted  by  her  excitement,  began  to  cry  and 
wring  her  hands.  "   ,  -i 

Her  mother  was  much  perplexed,  but  the  more  she  ques- 
tioned Nora,  the  more  was  she  convinced  of  the  correctness 
of  her  representations.  She  was  filled  with  anxiety  and  could 
not  restrain  her  own  tears. 

As  soon  as  Dert  came  home,  the  story  was  poured  into  his 
ears,  and  lost  nothing  in  the  retelling  by  Nora.  He  ques- 
tioned her  on  cver\  point,  and  found  it  difficult  even  then  to 
believe  that  she  had  really  seen  him. 

"It  must  have  been  somebody  else  who  resembled  him, 
just  as  Don  and  I  resemble  each  other,"  he  said,  anxiously 
seeking  a  loophole  of  escape  from  his  fears. 

"Then  why  should  he  turn  red  at  seeing  me,  and  run  away 
from  me?"  Nora  replied,  shutting  her  brother  up  to  her  own 
conviction. 

He  went  over  to  the  Coverts  to  see  Miss  Agincourt.  The 
amiable  maiden  had  already  acquainted  Covert  and  his  wife 
with  her  discovery,  and  the  first  thing  Covert  said  when  he 
saw  Bert  was:  "So,  you  have  heard  from  your  pet  attic 
boarder?    Are  you  going  to  take  him  in  again?" 

"Is  Miss  Agincourt  in?"  Bert  asked  without  noticing 
Covert's  question.  "If  she  is  I  should  like  to  see  her  alone  for 
a  few  minutes." 

'Oh,  of  course!  You  want  to  hear  the  story  straight  and 
hot  from  her  own  lips.  She  is  in  the  reception  room  and  will, 
I  know,  be  very  glad  to  see  you." 


i 


.T*^*' 


he  was  so 

to  speak  to 

avc  l)rc)Ught 

red  at  us  I" 

to  cry  and 

re  she  ques- 

correctncss 

ty  and  could 

ired  into  his 

He  quc8- 

even  then  to 

embled  him, 
d,  anxiously 

nd  run  away 
>  to  her  own 

icourt.  The 
and  his  wife 
aid  when  he 
>ur  pet  attic 

out  noticing 
her  alone  for 

straight  and 
>om  and  will, 


Ain    CASTLE    DON 

Bert  was  no  sooner  in  the  presence  of  the  lady  than  he 
began  with:  "Did  you  sec  Don  Donalds  this  afternoon.  Miss 
Agincourt?  Nora  says  he  was  on  the  Coinnion,  and  that  you 
saw  him  at  the  same  time  she  did.  I  thought  it  possible  for 
her  to  be  mistaken." 

Miss  Agincourt  smiled  so  maliciously  that  Bert  was 
answered  before  she  sf)okc.  Taking  time  to  frame  her  reply 
in  accordance  with  her  smile,  she  went  on  to  say  with  a  most 
provoking  deliberation:  "From  the  outcry  your  sister  made, 
and  from  the  way  she  started  toward  him,  I  think  that  I  am 
justified  in  saying  that  she  recognized  him  as  easily  as  I  did, 
notwithstanding  his  rags  and  filth." 

"His  rags  and  filth!"  Bert  exclaimed,  white  with  rage  at 
the  evident  satisfaction  with  which  she  used  the  words.  "If 
he  was  in  rags  and  filth,  it  is  because  you  pulled  away  the 
ladder  by  which  he  was  trying  to  climb  and  dumped  him 
among  the  mud  and  stones.  If  I  were  not  a  gentleman  mak- 
ing a  call  upon  a  lady  I'd  say  more  and  worse.  I  beg  your 
pardon  for  speaking  so  plainly." 

Miss  Agincourt  indulged  in  such  a  peculiarly  sharp-pointed 
laugh  that  Bert  dropped  from  the  heights  of  the  man  down  to 
the  impulsive  boy  that  he  was,  and  suddenly  burst  out  with: 
"May  God  have  mercy  upon  your  poor  little,  miserable, 
skinny,  powder-faced  soul!" 

"Tut,  tut!  you  young  scamp!"  interrupted  Covert,  hasten- 
ing into  the  room  from  the  place  where  he  had  been  eaves- 
dropping. "If  you  don't  know  how  to  control  your  tongue, 
you  must  get  into  the  street  as  quickly  as  your  feet  can  carry 

you." 

"Save  your  breath,  Mr.  Covert— it  is  so  very,  very  valuable; 
and  trust  me  to  know  enough  to  get  out  of  a  den  of  vipers 
^thout  waiting  for  orders  to  go."    Bert  had  already  risen  to 


...;:Jil 


'Jk.., 


164 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


take  his  leave,  and  he  shot  this  parting  arrow  with  such  down- 
right venom  that  both  Covert  and  Miss  Agincourt  winced 
under  the  stroke. 

"Yes,  it  was  Don  beyond  a  doubt,"  said  Bert  in  answer  to 
his  mother's  inquiries.  "And  that  Agincourt  viperess  is  actu- 
ally rejoicing  over  what  she  called  his  rags  and  fiith.  What 
do  you  think  of  that  for  a  specimen  of  womankind?" 

"She  is  not  a  fair  specimen  of  the  sex  to  which  your  sister 
and  mother  belong,  bat 'she  is  a  sample  of  people  of  both  sexes 
who  are  disappointed  if  their  evil  surmisings  fail  of  fulfillment." 
"She  tried  to  make  her  uncle  believe  that  Don  was  a  liar, 
and  now  she  will  go  to  him  and  try  to  convince  him  that  he  is 
a  criminal  also,"  said  Nora  bitterly. 

If  they  had  known  that  the  sweet  Arabella  had  already  been 
to  the  store,  and  that  she  had  already  been  roasted  by  the 
colonel  they  would  not  have  wondered  at  her  lack  of  com- 
passion for  the  unfortunate  Don,  for  roasted  people  are  apt  to 
reserve  their  compassion  for  themselves. 

The  explanatory  guesses  of  the  little  family  were  not  far 
from  the  truth.  They  concluded  that  Don  had  been  over- 
taken by  some  unaccountable  misfortune,  and  that  having 
returned  to  the  city  in  a  beggarly  condition,  his  pride  had 
prompted  his  escape  from  Nora,  and  would  prevent  him  from 
coming  to  the  house  cr  from  putting  himself  in  the  way  of 
being  seen  by  anyone  who  knew  him.  They  feared  that  he 
would  suffer  to  the  last  verge  of  endurance  before  his  pride 
yielded. 

"To  morrow  is  Sunday,"  said  Nora,  lighting  up  with  a 
faint  hope,  "and  you  must  spend  the  day  searching  for  him. 
Perhaps  he  may  be  on  the  Common  again." 

Bert  spent  the  day  roaming  the  Common,  the  Public 
Garden  and  the  streets  where  he  thought  he  would  be  likely 


SS^SEgSS^ 


1  such  dowii- 
iourt  winced 

in  answer  to 
eress  is  actu- 
fi;th.    What 
d?" 

h  your  sister 
of  both  sexes 
f  fulfillment." 
>n  was  a  liar, 
lini  that  he  is 

already  been 
tasted  by  the 
lack  of  com- 
ple  are  apt  to 

were  not  far 
d  been  over- 
that  having 
his  pride  had 
'ent  him  from 
n  the  way  of 
eared  that  he 
fore  his  pride 

ig  up  with  a 
hing  for  him. 

1,   the   Public 
Duld  be  likely 


,is^  -b'JV-  l.^l'iv,' 


ri"-PW;T-'''" 


iiiu.iL»n.n  .iiimmnni iipt.w    I , wpur^wpi^fwpigignqui" 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


166 


to  happen  upon  his  chum.     He  searched  in  vain.     The  fear 
that  Don  was  without  a  sheUer  to  cover  his  head,  filled  the 
family  with  such  dismay  that  silence  became  their  only  refuge. 
Colonel  Wickworth  did  not  dismiss  Don  from  his  mind  with 
the  departure  of  Miss  .\gincourt  from  the  store.     He  had  a 
high  opinion  of  his  worth,  yet,  wise  in  the  knowledge  of  high- 
strung  natures:,  he  readily  understood  why  the  boy  had  left 
the  city,  and  reproached  himself  for  not  having  seen  him  per- 
sonally and  dissuaded  him  from  making  so  hazardous  a  move. 
The  picture  that  was  given  of  his  forlorn  appearance  haunted 
him  all  day  Sunday,  and  the  only  relief  he  obtained  was  by 
assuring  himself  that  Don  would  certainly  return  to  his  North 
Square  boarding  place.     But  there  still  remained  the  fact,  as 
indicated  in  Miss  Agincourt's  account,  that  he  avoided  his 
former  landlady's  daughter;  and  it  was  a  fact  he  could  not 
explain  to  his  satisfaction.  /     :- .  "'  :, 

The  deacon  was  away  on  business,  and  on  Monday  morn- 
ing the  colonel  sent  a  note  to  Bert's  employers  requesting 
them  to  let  him  go  to  the  Wickworth  store  for  ten  or  twenty 
minutes;  and  by  way  of  explanation,  he  said  that  the  Donalds 
boy  was  in  trouble  without  any  fault  of  his  own,  and  that  the 
interview  was  to  be  in  his  interest. 

"Has  Dor  returned  to  your  place?"  was  the  first  question 
with  which  the  colonel  met  Bert's  entrance  into  the  counting 

room. 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  desponding  reply,  followed  by  the  won- 
dering question :     "How  did  you  know  that  he  had  returned  to 

the  city?" 

"I  learned  of  it  through  Miss  Agincourt,  and  I  judged  from 
what  she  said  that  he  has  been  very  unfortunate,  and  has,  in 
fact,  become  destitute.  I  am  anxious  about  him,  for  he  does 
not  deserve  to  suffer."  -     . 


ypiiy  iipi»yi.«iM?. 


166 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Immensely  pleased  with  this  manifestation  of  interest  on 
the  colonel's  part,  Bert  opened  his  heart  and  repeated  what 
Nora  had  said  about  Don's  appearance.  He  also  tried  to 
account  for  Don's  failure  to  return  to  North  Square. 

"I  think  I  understand  that  part  of  it,"  said  the  colonel 
nervously,  "but  I  cannot  understand  why  he  should  look  so 
seedy  in  so  short  a  time.  Possibly  he  has  pawned  his  clothing 
to  keep  from  starving.     Have  you  written  to  him?" 

"Not  yet.  He  left  word  for  me  to  forward  his  mail  to 
Albany,  and  I  took  it  for  granted  that  he  would  not  be  very 
likely  to  go  to  the  ofHce  here." 

"A  letter  dropped  in  the  office  will  be  published  in  the  usual 
list  of  letters  remaining  in  the  office,  and  he  may  see  the  list 
and  call  for  the  letter.  Write  to  him  and  urge  him  to  return 
to  your  house.  Say  that  a  friend  will  supply  him  with  all 
needed  clothing  and  ^ocome  responsible  for  his  board  until 
he  can  get  on  his  feet  again.  Write  also  that  Phillips  & 
Sampson  being  in  need  of  a  boy,  1  have  recommended  him  to 
them,  and  they  will  keep  the  place  open  for  a  week  or  ten  days. 
You  must  also  put  a  'personal'  in  four  of  the  city  papers, 
saying  thp.!  he  will  find  something  to  his  interest  by  calling 
upon  you  at  an  early  date,  and  here  is  the  money  to  pay  for 
the  advertisement.  I  am  much  concerned  for  him,  and  as 
soon  as  you  hear  from  him,  you  must  let  me  know  of  it,  but 
not  in  a  way  to  bring  our  doings  to  the  notice  of  my  brother." 

Bert  promised  to  follow  the  colonel's  directions  to  the 
letter,  and  thanked  him  gratefully  for  the  interest  he  took  in 
Don's  welfare.  At  the  home  dinner  that  day  the  colonel  was 
canonized  among  the  saints,  and  Nora's  tongue  itched  for 
words  adequate  to  his  praise. 

Both  the  deacon  and  Miss  Agincourt  had  a  sneaking  par- 
tiality for  newspaj-er  'personals,'  and  it  was  not  long  before 


tiitn 


I 


interest  on 

eated  what 

50  tried  to 

re. 

the  colonel 

lid  look  so 

lis  clothing 

lis  mail  to 
lot  be  very 

n  the  usual 
see  the  list 
n  to  return 
m  with  all 
joard  until 
Phillips  & 
ded  him  to 
)r  ten  days, 
ity  papers, 
by  calling 
to  pay  for 
im,  and  as 
V  of  it,  but 
y  brother." 
3ns  to  the 
he  took  in 
:olonel  was 
itched  for 

laking  par- 
ong  before 


II  - 1,1.  lui  Ufl«  ;  if. ; Mil |ij..; 'I jyg^.Bit- '.  ■'  V'J.  -U'.'"-  M  MJ. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


167 


they  saw  the  one  relating  to  Don.  Miss  Agincourt  was  the 
first  to  inform  the  deacon  of  Don's  return  to  the  city.  She 
abated  neither  jot  nor  tittle  in  the  malignity  of  her  suspicions, 
and  the  deacon  concluded  that  the  shop  had  been  rid  of  a 
hopeless  scapegrace.  The  'personal'  was  dismissed  from 
notice  by  assuming  that  it  was  merely  an  attempt  on  the  part 
of  Bert's  mother  to  recover  an  attic  boarder. 


j^- ^#^^^' 


PIHP 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


A  PUZZLED   YOUTHFUL   PILGRIM. 

While  Don  was  making  the  journey  from  Pittsfield  to 
Boston  in  the  comfortable  car  at  a  rate  that  almost  annihilated 
distance,  the  jolts  of  the  train,  the  turns  in  the  road  and  the 
swift  succession  of  scenes  were  but  parables  of  the  jolts  of  his 
mind,  the  turns  in  his  thoughts  and  the  succession  of  possibil- 
ities that  suggested  themselves  to  his  feverish  imagination. 
The  tramp  from  Albany  to  Pittsfield,  and  the  night  spent  in 
the  haystack,  rankled  in  his  heart  fully  as  much  as  did  the 
night  spent  in  the  prison.  '    '  ^  .  1 

As  the  train  sped  on,  tramp  pilgrims  by  ones  and  twos  and 
threes  were  passed  almost  every  other  mile,  and  he  shivered 
at  the  bare  idea  of  being  one  in  the  long  and  scattered  pro- 
cession of  forlorn  tatterdemalions  leaking  out  of  nowhere  and 
streaming  on  to  an  equally  indefinite  destination.  How  did 
their  lives  begin?  Where  would  they  end?  Was  not  every 
man's  hand  lifted  against  them?  Were  they  to  be  the  vermin 
of  eternity  as  they  were  of  time?  Here  was  a  "crook  in  the 
lot"  that  was  past  Don's  power  to  straighten  out.  How  much 
of  the  crook  was  due  to  the  faults  and  misfortunes  of  the 
pilgrims  of  the  road?  How  much,  to  the  defects  of  society  or 
the  indifference  of  humanity,  or  the  positive  neglect  prompted 
by  the  overweening  selfishness  of  the  more  fortunate.''  Don 
believed  that  every  human  being,  tattered  or  tailor-dressed, 

(i68)  "\      ' 


wtmm». 


-„.*- 


1 


ittsfield  to 
innihilated 
id  and  the 
jolts  of  his 
)f  possibil- 
lagination. 
It  spent  in 
as  did  the 

\  twos  and 

e  shivered 

tered  pro- 

where  and 

How  did 

not  every 

he  vermin 

3ok  in  the 

low  much 

les  of  the 

society  or 

prompted 

ite  .■'    Don 

)r-dressed, 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


169 


had  an  immortal  soul,  but  irom  his  point  of  view  it  appeared 
to  him  as  if  souls  were  considered  of  far  less  account  than  the 
buttons  people  wore  upon  their  clothes.  ^Te  know  how  keenly 
even  a  ragamuffin  like  himself  could  suiter,  and  he  blamed 
himself  for  not  having  thought  more  concerning  the  sufferings 
of  others  until  the  shoe  began  to  pinch  his  own  foot. 

A  dim  light  relieved  his  dark  thoughts.  There  were  the 
roundhouse  saints  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him.  Were  there 
not  many  ethers  like  them  scattered  among  the  multitudes? 
saints  who  seldom  entered  churches,  yet  ministered  to  suffer- 
ing as  they  found  opportunity,  and  that,  too,  without  letting 
their  left  hand  know  what  their  right  hand  was  doing? 

With  two  dollars  in  his  pocket  and  rolling  wheels  beneath 
him  bearing  him  so  swiftly  toward  Boston — with  these  fur- 
nished to  him  by  his  roundhouse  benefactors,  and  with  their 
rough,  yet  sympathetic  words  lingering  in  his  memory  like 
flowers  clinging  to  a  beetling  cliff,  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  take 
reasonable  views  of  even  the  inequalities  of  life. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  turn,  a  violent  jolt  in  his  thoughts 
and  he  was  thrown  from  the  track  altogether,  and  all  that  was 
left  for  him  to  do  was  to  pick  hitiiself  from  among  the  splinters 
of  the  wreck,  count  his  wounds  and  be  his  own  surgeon  to 
them. 

Charity!    That  was  the  word  that  threw  him  from  the  rail. 

"I  am  an  object  of  charity,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  the 
roundhouse  men  helped  me  because  I  was  an  object  of  char- 
ity." The  thought  made  his  two  dollars  burn  in  his  pocket; 
and  the  measured  sound  made  by  the  wheels  as  they  struck 
each  successive  rail  spelled  charity  as  plainly  as  it  was  spelled 
in  the  spelling  book  or  dictionary.  The  noble  word,  so  sug- 
gestive of  noble  deeds  and  motives,  stuck  in  his  throat  so 
obstinately  that  it  almost  choked  him.  , 


170 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"I'll  not  be  an  object  of  charity  to  anyone,  nor  for  any- 
body," he  said  aloud,  gritting  his  teeth  and  clenching  his 
hands,  and  stiffening  up  in  his  whole  person.  "That  is  where 
the  tramp-world  begins.  Men  become  willing  to  receive  char- 
ity, and  charity  becomes  the  open  hole  down  which  they  sink 
into  shiftlessness  and  nothingness.  And  if  people  give,  it  is 
because  they  want  to  rid  themselves  of  the  things  that  would 
otherwise  remain  in  sight  to  annoy  them.  No  more  charity 
for  me.  If  I  can't  fight  my  way  up,  I'll  cast  myself  down  so 
deep  that  not  even  an  undertaker  can  find  me.  Every  dollar 
I  have  received,  from  the  colonel  down  to  the  firemen,  shall 
be  paid  back  again ;  and  if  I  can't  get  it  into  the  hands  of  the 
men  to  whom  it  belongs,  I'll  throw  it  into  a  missionary  box, 
and  send  it  so  far  away  that  there  will  be  small  chance  of  its 
coming  back  to  haunt  and  humiliate  me." 

So  here  was  Don  going  back  to  Boston  minus  his  trunk, 
but  with  a  car  load  of  pride  and  a  car  load  of  suspicion  and 
distrust,  which  might  have  been  of  use  to  him  could  they  have 
been  condensed  into  pocket  quantities  and  carried  about  as 
self  respect  and  caution.  Possibly  the  pressure  to  which  he 
was  to  be  subjected  led,  in  a  measure,  to  this  result  in  the  end. 

When  he  landed  at  the  station  he  felt  glad  to  know  that  he 
was  in  Boston  again,  and  he  said  to  himself:  "Here  I'll  stick 
and  push  my  roots  down  until  I  can  find  something  to  grow 
upon." 

The  passengers  who  came  out  of  the  Boston  and  Albany 
station  were  confronted  by  one  of  the  most  squalid  and  dis- 
reputable precincts  of  the  city.  Keenly  remembering  his  own 
battered  and  disreputable  appearance,  and  fearing  that  the 
neighborhood  would  claim  him  and  suck  him  down  into  its 
whirlpool  depths  without  any  choice  of  his  own,  he  hurried  in 
the  direction  of  the  Common.     He  thought  of  the  attic  in  the 


'"■■■.- 


^g^^j^^,^^jiifgffgii^0jgi^gsi0iu^^ 


*'  ';-*  ',^  ■' '  "*<'..!. 'yt  '■'  '0>  »'■ 


▲IR    OASTLB    DON 


171 


widow's  house  and  longed  to  go  back  to  the  little  mother's 
family.  But  having  resolved  to  keep  clear  of  all  acquaintances 
till  he  was  in  a  condition  to  meet  them>  on  equal  terms,  he 
stifled  his  feelings  and  entered  the  Common  and  sat  down 
upon  one  of  the  seats. 

What  should  he  do  next?  How  soon  would  his  blank  page 
give  place  to  a  title  page  or  to  a  chapter  with  something  in  it 
worth  considering?  For  a  long  time  he  remained  motionless. 
He  studied  deeply  what  should  be  his  next  move,  but  the  more 
he  thought,  the  more  perplexed  he  grew.  Presently  he 
noticed  that  his  garments  were  still  covered  with  the  dust  of 
travel ;  his  hands  were  grimy,  and  his  skin  felt  as  if  the  filth  of 
a  sewer  had  been  flowing  over  him.  The  consciousness  of  dirt 
took  possession  of  him,  and  his  whole  nature  rose  in  rebellion 
against  this  first  and  worst  symptom  of  degradation.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  though  his  outward  meanness  of  appearance 
was  corroding  his  very  soul  with  rust  and  shabbiness.  He 
hurried  to  the  foot  of  the  Public  Garden  which,  at  that  time 
reached  the  salt  water  of  the  inflowing  sea.  The  sun  was 
setting  gloriously  over  the  purple  hills  in  the  west.  Not  a 
loiterer  n  ir  a  bluecoat  lingered  near.  A  boat-flat  floated 
below  the  wall ;  lowering  himself  to  this  he  disrobed  and  flung 
himsolf  into  the  water.  And  there,  where  Commonwealth 
avenue,  the  grandest  avenue  in  all  Massachusetts,  has  since 
been  laid  out  upon  made  land;  and  where  magnificent 
churches,  art  rooms,  institutes  .and  palatial  residences  have 
since  sprung  up,  the  pride  of  Boston  and  the  wonder  of  visitors, 
Don  revelled  mid  the  sunset  hues  reflected  upon  the  waters, 
diving,  swimming  and  plunging  about  as  he  had  been  wont 
to  do  in  the  waters  near  his  far-of?  home.  And  then,  after 
sporting  like  a  porpoise,  he  remembered  his  chief  purpose,  and 
seeking  the  shallows  dredged   sand  from  the  bottom  with 


=f: 


1 


"      ^TlWPffPPP 


172 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


which  he  scoured  his  skin  till  it  was  as  red  as  the  sun  itself. 

If  the  Naiades — the  nymphs  of  the  waters — had  done  their 
duty,  they  would  have  put  a  new  suit  of  clothes  on  the  flat  for 
Don's  use  when  he  should  return  to  shore.  In  recompense 
they  might  have  taken  his  old  garments  to  use  as  floor-cloths 
for  their  kitchens.  But  perhaps  Boston  intelligence  had  ban- 
ished them  from  its  matter-of-fact  precincts  and  had  forced 
them  to  return  to  Greece  or  to  the  classic  realms  of  pure 
mythology. 

Don  took  his  clothes  and  threshed  them  on  the  planks  of 
the  flat  till  every  dust-atom  fled  in  dismay.  When  he  climbed 
the  wall  and  walked  about  renewed  in  every  fiber  of  his  being, 
he  looked  like  a  young  god  masquerading  in  old  clothes  just 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  or  for  the  sake  of  walking  incog  and 
taking  point-blank  peeps  at  the  lower  walks  of  Boston  life. 

Now  that  he  had  shaken  the  dust  from  his  garments, 
washed  the  grime  from  his  body,  and  thereby  thrown  off  some 
of  the  weight  from  his  mind  and  driven  out  some  of  the 
specters  which  had  tormented  his  soul  he  walked  briskly  to  the 
upper  part  of  the  Common  where,  after  obtaining  something 
to  eat  from  one  of  the  stands,  he  sat  down  to  watch  the  after- 
tea  promenaders  who  flocked  together  on  the  Tremont  Mall  in 
great  numbers.  Presently  joining  in  the  promiscuous  pro- 
cession and  catching  the  spirit  of  the  happy  throng  he  walked 
and  whistled  as  unconcernedly  as  though  a  bed  awaited  him  in 
one  of  the  millionaire  mansions  of  Beacon  street. 

As  the  evening  advanced  the  crowd  sifted  out  through  the 
gfates  of  the  Common  till  only  belated  people  making  short 
cuts  in  various  directions  appeared  here  and  there.  Finally 
the  sifting  left  but  an  occasional  straggler  to  disturb  the  soli- 
tude. In  the  tree  forks  there  were  houses  built  for  the  pet 
squirrels  of  the  city,  and  among  the  branches  there  were  fancy 


n  itself, 
ne  their 
flat  for 
mpensc 
r-cloths 
ad  ban- 
J  forced 
of  pure 


AiR    CASTLE    DON 


178 


nests  provided  for  the  birds  which  chose  to  occupy  them — the 
English  sparrow  had  not  yet  conquered  the  United  States — 
but  Don  had  nowhere  to  lay  his  head.  Having  resolved  to 
husband  his  scant  funds  for  food  alone  he  was  dependent  upon 
chance  for  sleeping  quarters. 

The  day  had  been  a  long  and  exciting  one  and  he  was  now 
suffering  from  the  inevitable  reaction  and  fatigue.  Seeing 
that  the  mall  policeman  was  beginning  to  notice  his  presence, 
he  passed  down  to  the  old  cemetery  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Common,  and,  looking  through  the  iron  railing,  he  sought 
some  place  where  among  the  vaults  and  tombstones,  he  might 
pass  the  rest  of  the  night.  A  large  fir  tree  which  hugged  the 
ground  with  its  low  thick  branches  invited  him  to  its  shelter, 
and  he  was  about  to  |:limb  the  fence  and  hide  himself  among 
the  dead,  when  a  watchman  appeared  and  drove  the  thought 
from  his  mind.  He  left  the  Common  and  passed  into  the 
streets,  where  for  awhile  his  loneliness  was  relieved  by  the 
returning  theater  goers.  When  these  also  melted  away  among 
the  shadows  he  found  himself  alone  near  the  old  Tremont 
Temple,  Noticing  a  narrow  passageway  in  one  end  of  the 
building,  and  observing  that  it  had  no  door,  and  concluding 
that  the  stairway  led  toward  the  top  of  the  structure,  he  decided 
to  venture  in,  hoping  that  he  might  happen  upon  some  corner 
where  he  could  lie  down  and  sleep  undisturbed.  The  few 
feeble  jets  that  were  left  burning,  and  which  served  but  to 
make  the  darkness  visible,  indicated  that  they  were  for  the  use 
of  the  watchman  of  the  building.  Nevertheless  he  continued 
to  ascend  till  he  reached  the  uppermost  floor.  He  was  now  in 
a  wide  hallway  bounded  by  seemingly  disused  apartments,  and 
cumbered  with  stowage  of  a  miscellaneous  description.  He 
noticed  a  long  narrow  packing  case  with  a  loose  upturned 
cover  leaning  against  one  of  the  walls. 


I 


J 


ik 


■  ■■« 

A 


iiWfi^yfiiiip!;.'- 


174 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


"A  bed  good  enough  for  a  prince!"  he  said  softly  to  him- 
self, after  cautiously  examining  it,  "barring  the  fact  that  it 
looks  a  little  like  a  coffin."  It  was  partially  filled  with  soft 
packing  papers.  Don  slipped  in,  lowered  the  cover,  leaving 
an  opening  sufficient  for  ventilation,  and  after  lifting  grateful 
thoughts  heavenward,  he  fell  asleep. 

Treniont  Temple  was  a  hive  of  rooms  and  offices,  with  the 
great  auditorium,  the  chief  meeting  place  of  The  Temple 
Church,  and  the  much-used  lecture  room  and  place  of  gather- 
ing for  great  public  occasions,  at  the  center  of  the  whole.  The 
night  guardianship  of  the  quaint  old  granite  building — subse- 
quently destroyed  by  fire — was  intrusted  to  a  gray-haired 
negro,  a  meinber  of  the  Temple  Church,  and  one  of  the  eccen- 
tric characters  of  Boston.  In  his  way  he  was  a  pedant  of 
words,  and  once  a  year  a  complimentary  benefit  was  extended 
to  him  by  the  fun-loving  youth  of  the  city.  The  large  hall  was 
used  for  this  purpose,  and  notwithstanding  the  admission  was 
put  at  fifty  cents,  it  was  always  filled  to  suffocation.  The 
negro  usually  gave  a  rambling  lecture  packed  with  columns  of 
dictionary  the  pompous  delivery  of  which  was  accompanied 
with  incessant  applause  or  catcalls,  and  tributes  thrown  upon 
the  stage  in  the  shape  of  bad  eggs,  dead  rats,  cabbages  and 
other  unsavory  accompaniments.  In  the  end  the  negro  was 
the  greater  gainer;  the  young  men  had  their  annual  frolic,  and 
the  negro  his  dollars  running  up  into  the  hundreds;  and  so, 
as  between  the  negro  and  the  audience,  the  negro,  judging  by 
the  practical  results,  was  the  wiser  of  the  twain. 

He  was  an  extremely  pious  man  and  a  frequent  and  accept- 
able exhorter  at  the  Temple  Church  prayer  meetings.  His 
bachelor  quarters  were  on  the  floor  where  Don  had  made  his 
bed  for  the  night.  Having  completed  the  last  round  of  the 
building  toward  the  gray  of  the  morn  he  was  retreating  to  his 


MfUMI 


▲Ill    (lASTLn    DON 

room  when  lie  heard  a  rustlinuf  in  the  box  where  Don  lay. 

Going  toward  the  sound  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  himself: 
"If  my  olfactories  do  not  deceive  me,  I  hears  the  sound  of  a 
mighty  progigeous  rat  in  that  lemoncholy  looking  box." 

Don,  who,  though  still  asleep  was  dreaming  that  he  was 
preaching  a  sermon  before  a  temple  congregation,  uttered 
some  v.'ords  that  were  echoes  from  his  father's  pulpit. 

"Tie  complexion  of  dose  words  don't  germinate  from  the 
inceptions  of  no  quadrupuddic  animal,"  said  the  negro,  intently 
Ij.stening.  "And  it  isn't  no  emmernashun  from  Satan  nuther. 
Sounds  critically  like  as  though  a  preacher  dun  got  lost  from 
h/.s  moorings  and  sailed  plum  into  the  projecting  arms  of  a 
packing  case." 

Advancing,he  cautiously  lifted  the  loose  cover,  just  as  Don, 
in  low  sighing  tones  which  seemed  to  come  from  afar,  said: 
"What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will  trust  in  thee." 

"Bless  your  soul,  honey!"  exclaimed  the  black  man,  forget- 
ting to  starch  his  sentences,  and  speaking  in  tones  that 
trembled  with  emotion ;  "there  is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of  while 
this  chile  is  watching  over  you.  And  the  Lord  himself  has 
said  to  them  who  trust  in  him,  'I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor 
forsake  thee'." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  awoke  the  sleeper.  Don  opened  his 
eyes  and  seeing  the  black  face  peering  down  upon  him,  without 
being  able  in  the  dimness  of  the  light  to  discern  the  sympathy 
expressed  thereon,  he  said  in  a  half  pleading  voice:  "Don't 
call  a  policeman ;  having  no  other  place  to  go  to,  I  came  here 
to  sleep  for  the  night,  not  meaning  any  harm  to  anything  or 
anybody." 

"Policeman  I"  exclaimed  the  negro.  "I'm  the  policeman  of 
this  edifice,  and  the  gardeen  of  all  that's  in  it.  And  when  I 
hiappen  upon  a  boy  in  such  a  tight  box  as  that,  and  a  preaching 


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176 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


and  a  scripturing  in  his  sleep,  I'm  not  going  to  disconvenience 
him  by  giving  him  up  to  the  heathen  for  his  inheritance.  If 
you'll  elevate  yourself  from  that  box,  I'll  take  you  to  my  room 
what's  on  this  floor,  and  give  you  a  breakfast  as  expediently 
as  possible." 

Don  followed  him  to  his  well  kept  room,  where  the  negro, 
being  an  excellent  cook,  soon  served  a  warm  and  appetizing 
breakfast.  Happily  for  the  guest,  the  host  became  so  intent 
upon  framing  a  succession  of  his  wonderful  sentences  that  he 
forgot  to  inquire  into  Don's  private  history  or  future  intentions. 

The  box-lodger  went  down  the  long  flight  of  stairs  leading 
to  the  street  laboring  under  conflicting  feelings;  he  was  grate- 
ful to  the  negro  for  his  kindness,  yet  humiliated  to  think  that, 
notwithstanding  his  resolution,  he  had  again  become  the  sub- 
ject of  charity,  nor  did  he  recover  from  the  sting  of  his  pride 
until  he  had  taken  a  vigorous  walk  upon  the  Common. 

When  the  hour  for  the  opening  of  business  approached  he 
went  down  to  the  wharf  side  of  the  city,  and  alter  applying  to 
several  stevedores  for  work,  was  to  his  great  joy  engaged  for 
two  hours  to  wash  down  the  upper  decks  of  a  ship  which,  not 
being  ready  for  sea,  had  not  yet  shipped  her  crew.  For  this 
worK  he  received  twenty  cents  which  so  encouraged  him  that 
he  went  the  rounds  of  the  wharves  in  the  hope  of  finding  other 
employment.  He  continued  his  search,  but  unavailingly,  till 
some  time  after  noon. 

Boston  Common  is  the  airy  Bethesda  where  countless 
weary  and  woebegone  spirits  have  found  mitigation  of  their 
sorrows  and  ills.  Don  again  resorted  to  it  for  rest  and  for  the 
soothing  effects  it  always  produced  upon  his  mind.  After  sit- 
ting awhile  in  one  of  the  least  frequented  portions  of  the  open 
green,  Vvhere  he  could  get  the  full  bMiefit  of  both  sun  and  air, 
he  took  one  of  the  by  paths  that  led  toward  the  Beacon  Mall, 


yjjiji'^jmi. 


„r~-*?- 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


177 


where  the  Saturday  afternoon  promenaders  were  out  in  full 
force.  The  gay  procession  fascinated  him,  and  he  sat  down 
upon  one  of  the  numerous  seats  facing  the  mall  to  watch  the 
rich  display  of  color  and  beauty.  A  lovely  little  miss  chasing 
a  gaily  painted  hoop  passed  so  near  to  him  that  he  turned  his 
head  to  keep  her  in  view  as  she  sped  down  the  mall.  When 
he  again  faced  the  throngs  of  people,  Miss  Agincourt  was 
slowly  passing  with  her  steel-g^ay  eyes  fixed  contemptuously 
upon  him,  and  close  behind  her  was  Nora,  who,  when  she 
recognized  him,  made  an  involuntary  movement  toward  him, 
her  face  filled  with  surprise  and  pity.  •  ^ 

Overwhelmed  with  shame  and  confusion,  and  hardly  know- 
ing what  he  did,  he  turned  his  back  on  her  and  literally  ran 
away. 

"What  will  they  think?  What  will  they  say?"  he  exclaimed 
in  great  distress,  when  at  a  safe  distance  he  halted  to  recover 
his  breath. 

"Am  I  a  coward  or  a  fool — or  both?"  he  reflected  after 
having  had  time  to  cool,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  his 
return,  distrusting  the  consistency  of  his  conduct. 

"I  am  neither!"  he  finally  concluded;  "but  I  should  have 
been  both  if  in  this  condition — looking  like  a  cornfield  scare- 
crow—I had  thrown  myself  upon  my  friends  as  another  object 
for  their  charity." 


'•#•*">"' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


AN  INVOLUNTARY  DETBCTIVB. 


^^. 


Days  passed  without  any  change  in  Don's  fortune.  Hav- 
ing no  use  for  the  post  office,  he  kept  away  from  it,  and  having 
no  change  to  spend  upon  newspapers,  he  went  without  them, 
and  consequently  Bert's  letter  failed  to  reach  him,  as  did  also 
the  'personal'  written  for  his  benefit. 

He  scoured  the  city  for  work,  hut  was  getting  so  severely 
scoured  himself  that  his  appearance  was  a  constant  contra- 
diction to  hi?  apjlications.  His  shoes  barely  held  together, 
his  clothes  were  little  better,  and  Bob  Flanger's  hat,  the  crown 
of  his  mendicancy,  was  so  rapidly  going  to  pieces,  there  was 
small  chance  of  even  a  fragment  of  it  being  left  for  a  memento 
of  the  roundhouse  saints.  He  still  took  his  salt  vater  baths, 
although  no  cleanliness  of  body  could  atone  for  the  condition 
of  his  clothes.  Of  a  former  Russian  age  the  historian  tells  us 
that:  "The  grandees  came  to  court  dropping  pearls,  dia- 
monds— ^and  vermin."  In  those  days,  splendor  atoned  for 
filth ;  in  these,  no  degree  of  cleanliness  of  the  body  can  atone 
for  frayed  garments.  The  world  thinks  more  of  clothes  than 
it  does  of  skin<?,  and  the  Lord  is  about  the  only  one  who  has 
ho  respect  for  the  mere  outward  appearance. 

Notwithstanding  the  most  heroic  economy  Don's  dollars 
had  becor.ie  reduced  to  cents.  If  he  should  be  reduced  to  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  what  then?  One  Sunday  morning  while 
walking  down  Salem  street  before  the  inhabitants  were  stirring, 

(178) 


.i. 


='*"'*'ffiS 


ne.  Hav- 
ind  having 
lout  them, 
IS  did  also 

io  severely 

,nt  contra- 

l  together, 

the  crown 

there  was 

|i  memento 

Iter  baths, 

condition 

an  tells  us 

earls,  dia- 

toned  for 

can  atone 

>thes  than 

who  has 

I's  dollars 
:ed  to  the 
ng  while 
stirring, 


-ijUr- 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 

he,  for  the  first  time,  notirtd  with  envy  the  loaves  of  brown 
bread  and  the  pots  of  baked  beans  which,  fresh  from  the  bak- 
ing ovens  that  had  been  kept  going  all  night,  were  left  on  the 
door  steps,  just  as  now  the  Sunday  newspapers  are  left. 
Something  whispered,  "If  thou  be  an  equal  of  thy  fellows, 
command  a  pot  of  beans  and  a  loaf  of  brown  bread  to  follow 
thee;  and  help  them  to  obey  by  carrying  them  under  thine 
arms."  He  had  heard  Father  Taylor  say  from  the  pulpit: 
"If  I  saw  a  hungry  man  stealing  bread,  my  tongue  would 
wither  before  I  would  cry,  'Stop,  thief!" 

If  human  beings  ask  for  the  bread  of  work  and  are  given 
the  stone  of  indifference ;  or,  if  they  ask  for  the  egg  of  subsist- 
ence, and  are  givsn  the  scorpion  of  reproach,  what  wonder  if 
they  sometimes  turn  to  ravening  fiends  ready  for  treasons, 
stratagems  and  spoils! 

By  day  Don's  courage  rose  like  the  sun,  but  by  night  his 
fears  multiplied  like  the  stars.  The  midnight  dens  of  vice,  the 
skulking  minions  of  crime  and  the  staggering  victims  of  dissi- 
pation filled  him  with  horror.  By  day  Boston  appeared  like  a 
belle ;  by  night,  like  a  hag.  Don  did  not  believe  in  using  pious 
phvases  for  superstitious  incantations,  yet  from  his  young  soul 
rose  a  voiceless  cry  to  the  Invisible  On":  "Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil."  Time  and  again  he 
recalled  the  language  of  the  noblest  of  all  human  Litanies: 
"From  all  evil  and  mischief;  from  sin,  from  the  crafts  and 
assaults  of  the  devil;  from  thy  wrath,  and  from  everlasting 
damnation.  Good  Lord,  deliver  us." 

At  eleven  o'clock  of  a  night  which  was  to  be  memorable 
in  his  life,  he  found  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the  old  North 
Church.  He  knew  its  history;  the  story  of  the  signal  lantern, 
and  the  Ride  of  Paul  Revere  to  Lexington.  Scn-ething  in  its 
plain  old  front  appealed  to  his  confidence,  and  he  tried  all  the 


1 


s 
S 


1 


4 
1 


M 


raji^TrninnnriTf  -t  i  n,  -j-narriTniin 


1,1  ji  I « lyuwi'^'H  "Wyt^Jiff ' 


180 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


u 


'. 


tip 


entrances  in  the  hope  that  he  might  find  an  opening  that  would 
admit  him.  But  the  building  was  closed  as  tight  as  the  water 
lily  that  shuts  itself  up  at  night. 

Then  he  thought  of  the  old  historic  Copp's  Hill  Burying 
Ground  near  by,  where  so  many  of  the  colonial  fathers  and 
revolutionary  heroes  were  buried.  He  determined  to  spend 
the  night  among  its  graves,  for  he  fell  that  he  would  there  be 
safe  from  the  interference  of  the  guardians  of  the  night.  The 
cemetery,  propped  up  by  walls,  lifts  itself  quite  high  above  the 
level  of  the  surrounding  streets.  Its  winding  walks  and 
heavily  shaded  grounds,  its  innumerable  graves  and  diversified 
stones  and  monuments  afforded  him  just  the  seclusion  he 
needed.  There  were  gas  lights  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  see 
the  immediate  spaces  around  him.  Going  to  one  of  the  most 
isolated  portions  of  the  ground,  he  sat  down  upon  a  flat  stone 
which  was  supported  by  several  pillars.  On  looking  upon  the 
face  of  the  stone  there  was  just  enough  light  to  enable  him  to 
read  the  epitaph  of  Cotton  Mather,  the  foe  of  Quakers  and  the 
burner  of  witches.  He  looked  under  the  stone,  not  for  the 
spirit  nor  for  the  dust  of  the  stern  old  puritan,  but  to  see  how 
much  space  there  was  between  the  under  part  of  the  stone  and 
the  surface  of  the  earth. 

Here  was  a  lodging  for  him.  Near  by  there  were  several 
small  piles  of  green  clippings  which  had  been  cut  by  a  lawn 
mower.  Some  of  these  clippings  he  put  benescth  the  broad 
stone,  and  then  crawled  in  and  made  himself  up  for  a  peaceful 
night's  rest.  He  pulled  up  his  coat  collar  for  a  quilt,  drew  his 
hat  over  his  eyes  for  a  curtain,  and  put  his  two  hands  under 
his  head  for  a  pillow.  It  was  a  grotesque  anticipation  of  the 
end  of  all  ilesh,  though  the  fact  did  not  appeal  to  his  imagin- 
ation at  that  moment.  Peepin?r  from  under  the  edge  of  his 
hat-rim,  he  saw  a  rat  moving  here  and  there  among  the  graves, 


ii'nrll 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


181 


X 


and  owing  to  the  irregular  flickerings  of  the  gas  lights  the 
trees,  shrubbery  and  monuments  appeared  to  be  dancing  a 
stately  minuet  with  the  restless  shadows.  For  a  moment  his 
flesh  began  to  creep,  but  he  diverted  his  fears  by  thinking: 
"If  Cotton  Mather  had  half  the  virtues  that  are  recorded  on 
the  stone  above  me,  there  is  little  danger  of  his  dust  beneath 
me  coming  up  to  interfere  with  my  lodging." 

For  a  long  while  he  laid  and  listened  to  the  diminishing 
sounds  of  the  streets,  the  play  of  the  wind  among  the  foliage, 
and  for  the  striking  of  the  clock  bells  of  the  city.  Weariness 
overcoming  watchfulness  he  finally  became  unconscious. 

About  three  o'clock  he  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
voices  immediately  over  his  head.  He  next  became  conscious 
of  two  pairs  of  legs— one  pair  in  black  and  the  other  pair  in 
gray — hanging  down  from  the  top  edge  of  ♦.he  stone  in  thrill- 
ing nearness  to  his  head.  He  was  so  excited  by  the  discovery, 
and  his  heart  throbbed  so  violently  he  was  sure  the  strangers 
would  hear  its  beats. 

The  men  began  to  converse,  and  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation left  no  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of  their  characters. 

"It's  a  mighty  good  haul,"  said  a  deep  voice  at  the  top  of 
the  black  trousers. 

"Yes,"  responded  the  other  with  an  oath,  and  in  an  under- 
tone. "But,"  he  added  fiercely,  "while  I  was  hooking  that 
ticker,  and  raking  in  the  lings  and  the  jewelry  from  the  bureau 
where  the  gas  was  burning,  the  young  woman  sat  up  as 
straight  as  a  clothes  pin,  and  blinked  at  me  like  an  owl.  But 
when  I  pinted  my  gun  at  her  and  told  her  that  I'd  kill  her  if 
she  made  a  sound,  she  fell  back  as  limp  and  as  silent  as  a  dish 
cloth.  I  had  the  bead  on  her,  and  at  the  first  breath  of  sound 
would  have  killed  her  as  dead  as  a  door  nail." 

"Well,  I  shinnea  through  my  part  of  the  job  as  easy  as  a 


■S5 

I 


S 


■sa; 


iQ^BSBi^EpiMiitBpniPHMf^^ 


■fi«P"" 


182 


AIB    GA8TLB    DON 


farmer  picking  his  apples,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "The  first 
room  I  went  into  had  an  old  duffer  and  his  wife  in  it,  and  the^ 
was  both  snoring  so  loud  an  engine  might  have  gone  in  there 
whistling  and  not  heard  itself.  It  was  there  I  got  them  two 
gold  tickers  and  them  two  pocket  books,  and  them  little 
tinklers.  Ot:  the  other  side  of  the  hall  I  found  two  youngsters 
a-sleeping  as  accommodative  as  these  dead  blokes  around  in 
these  here  graves.  There  I  scaled  two  more  tickers,  two 
purses,  and  this  here  handsome  seven-shooter;  and  they  kept 
as  still  all  the  time  as  if  the  angels  were  fanning  of  them." 

"And  the  swag  we  pulled  from  the  silver  closet  is  solid 
silver,  as  sure  as  nuts,"  remarked  his  companion,  as  he  cHiik- 
ingly  tested  one  of  the  pieces  upon  the  stone.  "I  guess  it'll 
be  some  time  before  the  chap  that's  under  this  stone'll  have 
another  such  a  layout  over  him,"  and  altnough  Don  knew  that 
the  words  referred  to  the  dead,  they  startled  him  almost  as 
much  as  if  they  meant  him. 

"It's  a  blamed  good  job  for  beginners,"  was  the  chuckling 
reply.  "And  now  let's  count  the  inside  of  these  pocketbooks; 
they  are  as  fat  as  the  city  dads." 

Although  Don  knew  that  he  was  in  great  danger,  he  was 
seized  with  an  irresistible  inclination  to  sneeze,  and  finding 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  suppress  the  untimely  tend- 
ency, he  accompanied  the  explosion  with  an  outcry  that  was 
so  prolonged  and  curdling  the  robbers  with  an  exclamation  of 
terror  fled  from  the  spot  leaving  their  spoils  and  dropping 
their  hats  as  they  ran. 

Here  was  fresh  cause  for  alarm  on  Don's  part.  The  police 
on  some  of  the  aajacent  streets  would  certainly  be  brought  to 
the  spot  by  his  startling  cry,  and  he  would  be  implicated  in 
the  robbery.  But  no  one  came.  It  seemed  an  age  from  the 
flight  of  the  men  to  the  dtwn  of  the  day.    He  crawled  cau- 


■iiiiiiiiiiii.iiii'ntvni'i 


J 


i' 


:;l 


»» 


.  -i;  ■•■J. 


-%, 


.Mi* 


■  (-  -J^ 


»!>«7 


^^ 


■*«- 


i 


■r.i 


•  'I 


Ain    OABTLB.  DON 


tiously  from  under  the  stone  and  was  met  by  a  display  of 
wealth  that  was  dazzling  to  one  on  the  very  verge  of  starvation. 
He  promptly  and  hastily  bundled  everything  into  the  bag  from 
which  the  robbers  had  drawn  their  plunder,  and  v/ith  the 
unwelcome  burden  on  his  back  and  the  two  forsaken  hats  in 
his  hand  he  started  for  the  nearest  police  station.  The  early 
morning  stragglers  looked  curiously  at  him  as  he  passed,  but 
his  greatest  dread  was  lest  the  police  should  cross  his  path  and 
find  the  plunder  in  his  possession  before  he  could  clear  himself 
by  delivering  it  at  the  station. 

Marching  straight  up  to  the  two  officers  who  were  behind 
the  station  desk,  engaged  in  an  earnest  conversation,  he  deliv- 
ered the  bag  into  their  possession,  and  while  they  examined 
the  contents  he  told  his  story  from  the  time  of  his  entrance  into 
the  cemetery  to  the  time  of  his  leaving  it. 

The  bag  contained  four  gold  watches,  one  revolver,  several 
pieces  of  costly  jewelry,  upwards  of  three  hundred  dollars  in 
bills,  several  notes  of  hand  and  one  large  check. 

"This  is  a  very  strange  story  you  tell,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
who  proved  to  be  the  captain  of  the  precinct,  "but  fortunately 
for  you,  circumstances  are  in  your  favor,  and  we  have  the 
evidence  to  prove  that  you  have  done  one  of  the  best  detective 
jobs  that  was  ever  done  in  this  district.  One  of  our  officers 
was  nearly  run  down  by  two  bareheaded  fellows  who  were 
chasing  down  Salem  street  as  though  the  whole  department 
was  at  their  heels.  They  are  now  in  the  lockup,  and,  unques- 
tionably, these  hats  belong  to  them.  One  of  the  men  has  black 
trousers,  and  the  other  gray,  as  you  have  said.  Could  you 
recognize  them?" 

"I  did  not  see  their  faces  for  the  reason  I  have  stated,"  said 
Don  immensely  relieved  by  the  turn  of  affairs,  and  by  the 
believing  words  of  the  officer.    "If  you  could  get  them  to  talk 


L^i:xr<' 


I-iiuliaiaJiSi. 


■j--^.-::;^^ 


184 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


In  my  presence  without  letting  them  know  of  my  connection 
with  the  case,  I  tliink  I  shouKl  recognize  their  voices." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  that;  but  I  am  afraid  that  jou'U  be 
puzzled.  While  they  thought  they  had  a  sure  thing  their 
voices  would  sound  one  way,  but  now  tliat  they  are  jugged, 
they  may  sound  altogether  diflferent.  The  boy  that's  getting  a 
spanking  doesn't  speak  as  he  did  while  laying  in  the  goodies 
from  the  pantry.  However,  we'll  have  them  brought  in  and 
see  what  we  can  do  with  these  hats." 

The  men  had  given  the  names  of  Cranston  and  Grimlow, 
and  when  they  were  brought  in,  Don  thought  that  they  were  as 
villainous  a  pair  as  he  had  seen  during  the  wholtf  of  his  own 
nocturnal  advejitures. 

There  was  quuc  a  difference  in  the  sizes  of  the  hats,  and 
when  the  men  were  brought  to  the  desk,  the  astute  officer  took 
the  larger  of  the  two  and  with  great  apparent  suavity  and  sim- 
plicity said  to  the  larger  headed  criminal:  "Here  is  your  hat, 
Mr.  Cranston."  With  similar  politeness,  he  added:  "And 
this  smaller  one  is  yours,  Mr.  Grimlow."  ' 

Not  suspecting  the  trap  laid  for  them,  each  man  received 
his  hat  as  a  matter  of  course;  but  they  winced  when  the 
captain,  lifting  the  bag  from  beneath  his  desk  placed  the  con- 
tents in  full  view,  s?ying:  "I  am  afraid  that  your  title  to  this 
property  is  not  as  good  as  the  title  you  have  to  your  hats,  and 
I  presume  that  you  did  not  know  that  we  had  a  detective  under 
that  tombstone  last  night.  You  doubtless  thought  that  the 
dead  had  risen  to  bear  witness  against  you  when  you  heard  that 
outcry,  when  it  was  only  this  witness  we  happened  to  have 
there,"  and  he  pointed  to  Don,  as  he  spoke.  "He  wasn't  in 
imiform  last  night,  as  you  perceive,  but  all  the  same  he  picked 
up  what  you  left,  including  your  hats,  and  brought  it  in.  I 
am  glad  that  our  officers  have  taken  you  in  so  that  you 


ronncction 


t  jou'll  be 
hiiig  their 
re  jugged, 
i  getting  a 
le  goodies 
;ht  in  and 

Grimlow, 
ly  were  as 
)f  his  own 

hats,  and 

flficer  took 

'  and  sim- 

your  hat, 

d:     "And 

received 
when  the 

the  con- 

e  to  this 

lats,  and 
ive  under 

that  the 
eard  that 

to  have 
A'asn't  in 
[e  picked 

it  in.  I 
;hat  you 


Allt    CASTLE    DON 


185 


might  have  another  opportunity  to  look  upon  tins  pluiider. 
It  would  he  good  policy  to  own  up  to  the  wliolc  transaction, 
for  by  so  doing  you  may  shorten  your  time  in  tlie 
penitentiary," 

Before  he  could  go  furtiier  witii  the  sweating  jjrocess,  and 
before  the  pair  had  uttered  a  wortl,  he  was  reinforced  by  five 
persons  who  entered  the  station  in  what  might  be  called  'a 
state  of  mind.'  One  was  a  fat,  ponderous,  well  dressed  Ger- 
man; another  was  his  wife,  equally  obese  and  well  dressed; 
and  the  remaining  three  consisted  of  his  pretty  daughter  and 
two  grown  sons.     All  were  more  or  less  out  of  breath. 

"Ach!  you  bolice  vas  goot  for  noddins!"  exclaimed  the 
irate  head  of  the  party  before  he  was  half  way  across  the  floor. 
"You  petter  puts  some  betticoats  on,  vor  you  lets  us  pe  robbed 
und  killed  yust  as  though  ve  vas  nopoddy  but  poor  beoples  mit 
no  monish  to  pay  our  taxes." 

Here  his  eye  fell  upon  the  spoils  displayed  upon  the  cap- 
tain's desk.  The  veins  on  his  forehead  distended  notwith- 
standing the  thickness  and  tightness  of  his  skin  as  he  said: 
"Gott  in  himmel!  Dot  vas  our  bropertyl  How  vas  you  get 
it  so  soon?" 

He  was  interrupted  by  his  daughter  who,  pointing  to  one 
of  the  prisoners  angrily  said:  "That  is  the  man  who  threat- 
ened to  shoot  me  last  night!  Oh,  you  contemptible  coward! 
I  should  like  to  see  you  hung  higher  than  Haman!" 

"Very  good,"  said  the  captain  complacently,  and  not  with- 
out amusement,  "Now,  if  some  of  you  will  identify  the  other 
prisoner,  we  shall  be  in  a  fair  way  to  provide  both  of  them  with 
a  strong  home  in  the  State  Hotel." 

The  family  were  residents  of  the  captain's  precinct  and 
were  quite  well  known  to  him.  Mr.  Vonberg  and  his  two 
sons  were  the  owners  of  a  prosperously  large  clothing  house 


w^ 


186 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


I   V 


i 


in  the  business  portion  of  the  city.  The  head  of  the  family  was 
still  fuming  under  the  irritation  caused  by  the  invasion  of  his 
house,  and  he  replied  to  the  captain's  question  somewhat 
wrathily  by  saying:  "How  vas  ve  identify  anypuddy  ven  ve 
vas  schleeping  und  minding  our  own  pusiness  so  hard  dot  ve 
don't  know  noddins,  except  dot  von  what  keeps  ervake?" 

"Well,"  said  the  captain,  "you  can  identify  this  property 
fast  enough." 

"Yas;  ve  don't  hafe  to  keep  ervak  vor  dot,  und  ve  vas  dake 
it  home  mit  us  dis  very  minute." 

"We  shall  have  to  wait  for  the  end  of  the  prosecution  and 
for  the  order  of  the  court  before  we  can  do  that,  Mr.  Vonberg. 
But  you  need  have  no  anxiety  about  the  safety  of  it." 

"I  guess  dot  vas  so;  but  how  vas  you  get  it  so  quick?" 

After  sending  the  prisoners  back  to  their  cells,  the  captain 
began  his  explanations  with  the  introduction  of  Don  to  the 
family.  "He  was  our  detective  in  this  busin?ss,  and  you  are 
indebted  to  him  for  the  safety  of  the  property,  which  he 
brouglit  here  shortly  before  your  arrival."  And  he  went  on, 
and  mid  a  running  fire  of  questions  and  exclamations  from 
each  member  of  the  family,  explained  the  particulars  of  the 
case.  But  none  of  them  could  understand  how  any  innocent 
person  could  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  compelled  to  take 
lodgings  in  a  graveyard  before  his  death;  or  how,  being  so 
destitute,  he  could  be  honest  enough  to  give  up  what  had,  wivh 
such  seeming  opportuneness,  fallen  into  his  hands. 

The  captain  was  a  good  judge  of  human  nature,  and  having 
been  greatly  prepossessed  in  Don's  favor,  he  strenuously 
defended  him  from  all  suspicion  of  dishonesty  or  insincerity; 
and  he  ended  by  saying:  "The  least  you  can  do  for  the  return 
of  your  valuables  is  to  make  some  provision  for  his  immediate 
needs." 


thi 
in] 


so 
th 
ar 

lO! 

Tl 
wl: 
be 


tht 
pn 
pel 
sec 
pol 
Ur 
vol 

go 
tre 
hai 
he 

ad< 
Vc 
ad' 

to 

"A 

CO 


>*>. 


wmW' 


WlRBUWl  WX- 


AIM    CASTT.B    DON 


187 


At  this  moment  an  early  bird  of  a  reporter,  searching  for 
the  early  worm  of  morning  news  for  his  evening  paper,  came 
in,  and  with  all  the  zeal  of  an  experienced  professional  pounced 
upon  the  case  as  an  exceptionally  rich  piece  of  local  news.  He 
probed  into  details  so  industriously  and  deeply  that  he  was 
soon  in  possession  of  the  main  facts  of  Don's  history  from 
the  time  of  his  departure  from  home  to  the  time  of  his  singular 
arrival  at  the  police  station.  Not  a  word  of  the  account  was 
lost  upon  either  the  policemen  or  the  Vonberg  family. 
The  latter  held  an  animated  consultation  with  one  another 
while  the  reporter  was  busy  with  his  notes,  and  the  result  may 
be  given  in  Mr.  Vonberg's  own  words. 

"Dot  boy,"  said  he  mellowly,  "vas  schleeps  no  more  mit 
ther  deat  till  he  vas  deat  hisself.  Ve  dakes  him  mit  us  to 
preakvast  vare  he  vas  hafe  some  goot  glothes  put  upon  him 
pefore  he  eats.  He  vas  putty  much  the  same  size  as  mein 
second  son,  who  vas  gif  him  his  second  suit  vrom  top  to 
pottom,  vich  vas  make  him  look  like  a  young  shentlemen. 
Un.d  ve  vas  gif  him  vifty  tollars,  ven  he  vas  done  mit  preakvast, 
vor  dot  goncert  he  sings  unner  dot  gravestone.  Den  he  schall 
go  mit  us  to  our  store,  vare  ve  vas  gif  him  a  new  trunk  und 
tree  new  suits  of  glothes  vor  to  put  in  it.  Pesides,  he  schall 
hafe  a  blace  in  our  store  vare  he  vas  get  six  tollars  a  veek,  till 
he  vas  get  sefen  ven  he  vas  mit  us  six  months." 

And  turning  to  the  reporter  with  assumed  cunning,  he 
added:  "Yon  vas  write  all  dot  down  mit  der  pencil  erpout 
Vonberg  und  his  sons,  so  dot,  it  schall  make  von  goot  pig 
advertisement  vor  their  pusiness." 

I  will,  for  a  fact!"  exclaimed  the  reporter,  generously  glad 
to  know  that  Don's  affairs  were  taking  such  a  favorable  turn. 
"And  you  may  depend  upon  it,"  he  added  with  warmth,  "your 
confidence  in  him  is  not  misplaced.     You  are  not  doing  a  deed 


:i 


I 


I 


4.mv-  '  '  '" 


HjlJJi|ii||ii«ll 


!'■"«.,»   ■!.  "Hi 


188 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


of  charity,  but  an  act  of  justice,  and  a  good  stroke  cf  business 
withal." 

Froni  Ilia  inmost  soul,  Don  blessed  the  reporter  for  these 
words.  In  no  small  degree  they  helped  to  melt  the  ice  and 
snow  from  his  bending  branches,  and  to  restore  the  self  respect 
that  was  so  rapidly  diminishing  under  the  pressure  of  poverty 
and  the  accumulation  of  distrust.  The  ponderous  machinery 
of  justice,  as  seen  in  the  police  station;  of  business,  as  seen  in 
the  Von  bergs;  of  the  press,  as  seen  in  the  reporter,  no  longer 
seemed  a  mere  thing  of  steel  and  steam  heartlessly  thundering 
mid  the  agonies  of  human  souls;  the  pulsating  hand  of  life  was 
upon  the  lever  of  the  machine,  and  in  that  life  there  was  a 
fountain  filled  with  blood  drawn  from  humanity's  veins — a 
touch  of  nature  that  made  all  the  world  kin. 

And  so,  the  hapless  youth  who  had  returned  to  Boston 
overloaded  with  pride  and  distrust,  was  ready  to  dump  his 
unprofitable  baggage  at  the  station,  where  he  had  been  so  prof- 
itably humbled,  and  at  the  same  time  so  wonderfully  exalted, 
by  his  growing  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  his  increasing 
confidence  in  his  fellow  beings. 

The  change,  however,  was  so  great  and  sudden,  that  he 
was  as  one  who  walked  in  dreams.  Nor  was  he  fully  awak- 
ened and  conscious  of  the  substantial  reality  until  the  honest 
Vonberg  and  his  cordial  family  reminded  him  that  he  was  to 
accompany  them  home  to  breakfast. 


rMMiili  lull  II  t        -■■!•■ 


.u-*>  '.    . .  ■—  '  ■»-  ■ 


mmm. 


'^m 


'^ff 


r"  Twi'T'^Ji  "'i^r^^Tt ' 


•I 


of  business 


■>,,■  ..:•  .  1-   _  ,..i 


r  for  these 
he  ice  and 
self  respect 
of  po\'erty 
machinery 
as  seen  in 
no  longer 
hundering 
of  h'fe  was 
ere  was  a 
>  veins — ^a 

to  Boston 
dump  his 
n  so  prof- 
y  exalted, 
increasing 

I,  that  he 
lly  awak- 
lie  honest 
le  was  to 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


UNDBR  COVKR  AGAIN. 

Fresh  from  the  bath,  and  clad  in  a  nobby  suit,  Don  sat  at 
the  table  of  his  host  on  equal  terms  with  all  the  members  of  the 
honest  and  cheerful  family.  No  dregs  of  humiliation  were 
mixed  with  the  cup  of  his  satisfaction.  The  Vonbergs  placed 
the  burden  of  obligation  upon  themselves  and  not  upon  him, 
and  without  affectation  treated  him  with  a  respect  that  was 
inspired,  not  so  much  by  his  recovery  of  their  property,  nor  by 
the  change  in  his  appearance,  as  by  his  easy  self  possession  and 
intelligent  measurement  of  the  whole  situation.  Their  respect 
for  him  increased  their  pleasure,  for,  being  generous  in  their 
dispositions,  they  rejoiced  to  know  that  they  were  to  have  a 
part  in  the  improvement  of  his  fortunes. 

At  the  close  of  the  happy  meal,  Don  said  to  the  parental 
Vonberg:  "Now,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  bundle  up  my 
old  clothes  so  that  they  may  be  given  to  the  first  ragman  that 
comes  along,  then  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  thinking  that 
they,  in  course  of  time,  will  be  sharers  of  my  change  for  the 
better  by  being  turned  into  something  useful." 

"Dey  vas  pundled  alretty,  so  dot  you  vas  hafe  no  more 
potter  mit  dem;  und  soon  dot  ragman  vas  pe  habby  because  he 
vas  get  dem  vor  noddins." 

"But  I  should  like  to  save  the  hat,  Mr.  Vonberg." 

"Safe  dot  hat!    Mein  gracious  gootness,  Mr.  Donalds! 


>.:.'lt'S<lll^lfe"liM, 


'fffmffiim^i'^Mmm'  '^'^"mh| 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Dot  hat  vas  look  like  it  vas  stepped  on  py  an  elevant.  You 
vas  not  vare  clot  ven  you  comes  to  mein  store,  vas  you?" 

Don  explained  its  connection  with  the  roundhouse  saints, 
and  with  Bob  Flanger  in  particular.  "I  intend  to  keep  it  for 
a  memento,"  he  said;  "that  hat  once  covered  the  head  of  as 
big  hearted  a  fellow  as  ever  trod  among  nature's  noblemen." 

"Ach!  Dot  vas  very  goot,  mein  son!  Und  you  shall  hafe 
all  the  old  hats  in  dis  house,  mit  mein  daughter  Dorothy's 
pesides,  if  you  vas  keep  dem  in  remembrance  of  dose  Vonperg 
saints.' 

Dorothy  appreciating  Don's  motives  as  well  as  his  humor, 
which  was  constantly  sparkling  from  his  eyes,  brought  the 
sacred  relic,  and,  after  brushing  it  carefully  wrapped  it  in  new 
manilla  paper  and  tied  the  bundle  with  a  narrow  blue  ribbon. 
When  she  handed  it  to  him  she  said:  "-Your  roundhouse 
saints  are  deserving  of  remembrance,  but  I  should  like  to  keep 
the  hat  myself  in  remembrance  of  tlie  young  gentleman  who 
was  the  means  of  bringing  to  justice  the  cowardly  sneak  who 
threatened  to  shoot  me." 

Don  was  saved  the  embarrassment  of  an  answer  to  Dorothy 
by  her  father,  who  said  to  her:  "Veil,  mein  daughter,  you 
vas  hafe  dis  hat  vat  I  now  gifs  him,  ven  he  vas  vare  it  enough 
und  gifs  it  pack  to  you."  And  he  handed  Don  a  hat  that 
matched  the  clothes  he  had  on,  adding  to  what  he  had  already 
said:  "If  you  vas  pe  a  glothing  house  saint  you  vas  pe  shure 
to  gif  dot  hat  to  Dorothy  vor  vat  you  call  a  memento,  ven  you 
vas  vare  it  out  so  you  don't  vant  it  again.  She  says  dof  you 
vas  a  ahentleman,  und  so  you  vas  411  der  vile  dot  you  vasn't 
looks  like  von.  Now  you  looks  yust  like  vat  you  vas,  und 
dot  is  yusl  as  it  should  pe ;  and  I  vas  gladt  dot  dot  is  so." 

When  Don  reached  the  store  at  the  foot  of  Brattle  street, 
he  was  surprised  by  its  magnitude,  and  the  variety  of  its  stock, 


rir'""^'^-'- 


"k>.>  ^  ?-*.<  :>  ^r5#:^^ 


ly^BPW^yBW' J!'"'-'""""'i'J  ""''■  g''-;»y<g*^?ww 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


ant.  You 
^ou?" 
use  saints, 
ceep  it  for 
lead  of  as 
oblemen." 
shall  hafe 
Dorothy's 
Vonperg 

is  humor, 
>ught  the 
it  in  new 
e  ribbon, 
iindhouse 
e  to  keep 
jnan  who 
ealc  who 

Dorothy 
ter,  you 

enough 
hat  that 

already 
>e  shure 
yen  you 
do^  you 
vasn't 
as,  und 

street, 
stock, 


y/hich  included  almost  everything  suitable  to  the  exterior 
respectability  of  male  humanity  from  a  shoe  lacing  up  to  valise 
and  trunk  supplies. 

The  two  sons,  Werner  and  Wilhelm,  whose  names  the  par- 
ental Vonberg  had  borrowed  from  one  of  the  masterpieces  of 
German  literature,  at  once  entered  upon  their  business  duties, 
while  the  father  personally  supervised  the  fulfillment  of  the 
promises  made  to  Don  in  the  police  station.  Besides  filling  a 
capacious  brass-bound  trunk  with  clothes  and  furnishings  suit- 
able to  the  needs  and  tastes  of  a  respectable  boy,  he  measured 
Don  for  a  custom  made  suit  of  clothing,  which  was  extra  to  the 
contract. 

"Now  vare  vas  you  hafe  your  paggage  sent?*'  Vonberg 
asked  when  he  had  snapped  the  spring  lock  of  the  trunk  to  its 
close.  "Shall  it  go  to  dot  blace  vare  you  sleeps  mit  der  stone 
last  night?  Nein!  You  vas  go  straight  to  dot  little  vidder 
und  her  son  und  dells  dem  dot  you  vas  poard  mit  dem  some 
more.  Und  ven  dot  baper  vas  come  dis  efening  you  vas  reat 
all  about  yourself  und  dose  Vonpergs,  whose  broperty  you 
hafe  safe,  und  whose  store  you  hafe  entered  vor  a  glerk.  The 
express  vagon  is  at  der  south  door  to  dake  you  mit  your 
paggage,  und  you  vas  come  here  next  Montay  vor  duty." 

While  Don  is  on  his  way  back  to  the  widow's  family  let  us 
connect  the  thread  of  events.  Bert  had  employed  every 
moment  that  he  could  spare  to  discover  the  hiding  place  of  his 
lost  chum,  and  he  had  enlisted  the  sympathies  and  secured  the 
assistance,  not  only  of  the  colonel,  but  many  others  who  need 
not  be  mentioned. 

Thinking  that  his  friend  might  possibly  have  shipped  on 
board  some  vessel  bound  for  the  vicinity  of  his  home,  Bert 
would  have  written  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  Don's  father  had  he 
not  been  prevented  by  the  maturer  wisdom  of  Mrs.  Williams, 


I 


:4 

■I 


192 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


who  feared  that  such  a  letter  might  only  cause  alarm  to  the 
family. 

It  was  well  that  he  was  restrained,  for  all  the  while  that 
Don  was  in  the  wilderness  his  parents  supposed  that  he  was 
in  the  book  store.  The  gap  in  his  correspondence  was  laid  to 
the  preoccupation  of  his  thoughts  by  the  novelties  and  excite- 
ments of  city  life.  That  he  should  be  too  proud  and  resoluie 
to  advise  with  them  in  case  of  need  or  distress  was  a  thing 
they  had  not  thought  of,  for  it  not  infrequently  happens  that 
boys  and  girls  are  as  little  understood  by  their  families  as  if 
they  were  ducks  hatched  in  a  hen's  nest. 

On  the  very  morning  that  Don's  fortunes  were  so  oppor- 
tunely resurrected  from  beneath  the  Copp's  Hill  tombstone, 
Bert  was  pluckily  iioping  and  plaiming  for-  hi!>  restoration  to 
their  attic  comradeship.  "I'll  not  give  up  yet,"  he  said  to  his 
mother  after  breakfast.  "Put  me  up  a  pocket  lunch  so  that  I 
can  spend  my  noon  hour  searching  for  him  among  the 
machine  shops  and  foundries  of  the  South  Side.  We  went 
over  there  once  to  see  the  Globe  Iron  Works,  and  while  we 
were  going  through  them  Don  pulled  me  up  in  front  of  a  new 
locomotive  and  said,  that  the  mechanics  who  could  put 
together  such  work  as  that,  were  doing  better  and  greater  work 
than  ever  old  Vulcan  did  when  he  made  the  war  shield  for 
Achilles.  He  was  so  enthusiastic  over  what  he  saw  that  he 
declared  that  if  he  had  to  begin  again  he.  would  try  to  get  into  a 
machine  shop  even  though  he  had  to  begin  by  shovelling  ashes 
and  sleeping  under  a  machine  bench.  He  may  be  doing  this 
very  thing  and  keeping  himself  low  till  he  can  get  himself  into 
shape  again." 

And  inspired  by  his  hopes,  Bert  pocketed  his  lunch  and 
tripped  away  whistling  so  loudly  upon  the  street  that  a  police- 


■iW  If  im'i'ii  ■  ww^im  »  ^»  y^  f[mm  ^\  ■  .irT7»T»M^j|j|g>^p| 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


■  .1  i9ig'p,|(|jijyB5#'|W  w  f^fjis 


198 


man  with  a  sensitive  ear  curtly  commanded  him  to  pull  in  his 
lips. 

But  Nora  was  in  no  mood  for  whistling,  or  the  indulgence 
of  any  of  its  girlish  equivalents.  She  had  conscientiously 
applied  all  her  Bible  threats  to  Miss  Agincourt  for  intei'- 
meddling  with  Don's  business,  and  had  just  as  scrupulously 
appropriated  all  the  promises  to  herself  for  being  such  a 
champion  of  his  character,  but  without  deriving  much  comfort 
from  either  process. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  Bert  had  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  "I  meet  that  slanderous  old  maid  almost  every 
day,  and  the  more  I  frown  at  her,  the  more  she  smiles  at  me. 
What's  the  use  of  the  threats  and  promises,  that  you  say  will 
right  all  things  at  last,  if  she's  to  keep  on  smiling  and  I'm  to 
keep  on  crying?  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  have  prayed  every 
morning  and  every  night  for  the  Lord  to  bring  Don  back  to 
us  and  it  doesn't  do  any  more  good  than  if  I  were  to  try 
to  raise  flowers  upon  the  pavement  of  the  streets.  If  you 
knew  where  Don  was,  and  I  were  to  ask  you  about  him,  you 
wouldn't  keep  me  in  the  dark;  and  I  think  that  the  Lord  ought 
to  be  as  good  as  my  mother.  The  first  thing  you  know  I  shall 
be  a  heretic  and  an  unbeliever,  and  will  be  going  off  to  hear 
Theodore  Parker,  just  like  other  wicked  people." 

"Nora,  Nora!"  exclaimed  her  mother  greatly  shocked  to 
hear  such  unwonted  things  from  her  daughter's  lips.  "You 
are  bordering  close  upon  blasphemy." 

Alarmed  by  her  mother's  expression  of  horror,  Nora  fled 
to  her  room  and  endeavored  to  expiate  her  sin  by  praying  and 
confessing  depths  of  iniquity  she  had  never  been  guilty  of  and 
by  forming  resolutions  she  could  never  perform.  While  she 
was  thus  futilely  engaged,  an  express  wagon  rattled  up  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  and  immediately  afterward  there  came  a 


:i 


ry'>'''Mfffj!W^|f?¥T^'?!^ 


IM 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


■^  y: 


vigorous  pull  at  the  bell.  Curiosity  overmastering  devotion, 
Nora  arose  from  her  knees  with  more  haste  than  solemnity, 
and  opened  her  door  just  in  time  to  hear  her  mother  say  in  the 
hall  below: 

"Thank  God,  you  are  safe,  Don !" 

"Yes,  safe  as  a  steeple,  and  back  again  like  a  bad  penny," 
was  the  characteristic  reply  she  heard. 

Rushing  headlong  down  the  stairs  she  gained  such  an 
impetus  by  the  time  she  reached  the  hall,  that  Don,  to  prevent 
her  from  running  against  something  harder  than  himself, 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  then  to  reward  himself  for  his 
forethought,  kissed  her  warrnly  before  he  released  her  again. 

"You  have  been  crying,  Nora,"  he  said,  as  she  drew  back 
from  him  like  a  startled  bird.    "What  has  troubled  you?" 

Beginning  to  realize  that  she  had  made  a  revelation  of  her- 
self in  more  ways  than  one  her  blood  tingled  from  head  to  feet 
and  her  face  was  an  aurora  of  changing  colors.  Seeing  how 
well  dressed  he  was,  she  plunged  into  another  conP'ct  of 
thought  and  feeling  which  made  her  breath  come  and  go  in 
short  quick  gasps. 

"Oh,  Don!"  she  pitifully  exclaimed,  "it  wasn't  you  I  saw  on 
the  Common  in  that  awful  state.  You  didn't  run  away  from 
me,  did  you?" 

As  she  looked  steadily  into  his  face  for  an  answer,  she 
noticed  how  wan  and  worn  he  looked,  and  saw  that  traces  of 
his  wound  still  remained  upon  his  cheek.  "Yes,"  she  said, 
"it  was  you,  and  you  did  run  away  from  me.  How  could  you 
do  it,  when  we  were  all  so  anxious  about  yon?" 

Beginning  to  understand  how  g^eat.  a  cloud  he  had  cast 
over  the  widow  and  her  children  by  not  confiding  in  them 
more,  he  humbly  replied:  "Give  me  time  and  I  will  explain 
everything,  and  when  I  have  done  that  you  will  not  blame  me. 


>  ■>'*^^^-'li 


f  devotion, 

solemnity, 

'  say  in  the 


ad  penny," 

d  such. an 
to  prevent 
m  himself, 
lelf  for  his 
her  again, 
drew  back 
you?" 
ion  of  her- 
lead  to  feet 
iceing  how 
conP'ct  of 
and  go  in 

a  I  saw  on 
iway  from 

iswer,  she 
traces  of 
she  said, 

could  you 

had  cast 

in  them 

explain 

lame  me. 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


195 


But  I  cannot  explain  just  now — it  is  too  long  a  story.  And, 
besides,  I  must  attend  to  business  first.  Is  my  attic  still 
vacant?    Will  you  tike  me  to  board  again?" 

"Take  you?"  said  the  little  mother,  smiling  through  her 
tears.  "You  do  not  know  how  much  we  have  missed  you, 
and  how  we  have  grieved  over  you!  Bert  will  be  almc'>t 
beside  himself  when  he  comes  home  and  finds  that  ^ou  arc 
safe  and  well.  You  shall  have  our  room,  and  Nora  and  I  will 
move  up  into  the  attic." 

"Guess  not,"  said  Don,  bluntly.  "If  you  knew  how  I  have 
longed  to  get  back  to  that  attic,  you  wouldn't  talk  about  pack- 
ing me  into  any  other  room  and  cutting  me  off  from  Bert.  I 
shall  not  wait  for  your  permission,  but  will  take  possession  as 
if  I  were  lord  of  the  manor." 

"Come  here.  Brassy,"  he  went  on,  addressing  his  new  and 
glittering  trunk,  "it  is  time  for  you  to  be  climbing  up  in  the 
world."  He  made  an  attempt  to  life  the  trunk  to  his  shoulder, 
but  in  his  weakened  state  he  was  unequal  to  the  burden  and  he 
protestingly  consented  to  let  Nora  and  her  mother  assist  him 
in  the  task. 

"Thank  Heaven  1  Here  I  am  again!"  he  said  after  entering 
the  room.  "But  who  has  been  here?"  he  suddenly  asked,  after 
noticing  that  several  improvements  had  been  made  in  the 
arrangements. 

"Nobody  but  Nora  and  Bert,"  the  widow  replied.  "They 
have  always  said  that  you  would  come  back,  and  so  they  have 
worked  at  the  room  more  or  less  every  day  to  make  it  more 
attractive  for  you." 

"And  all  the  while  I  have  been  saying  to  myself,  they  will 
soon  forget  that  there  was  ever  such  a  person  as  Don 
Donalds,"  said  Don. 

Forget  1"  exclaimed  Nora  indignantly.    "You  must  have 


Z~£^ 


"•■IS  t:-j3%-SI 


196 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Strange  ideas  about  friendship.  Why  didn't  you  come  to  us 
while  you  had  those  awful  clothes  on  and  while  your  wound 
needed  care?  You  look  thin  and  worn,  and  I  solemnly 
believe  that  you  have  been  in  the  worst  kind  of  trouble.  I 
didn't  think  that  you  would  be  so  mean  as  to  stay  away  from  us 
when  you  needed  us  most.     Why  didn't  you  come  before? 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  I  was  ''tnting  for  a  streak  of  luck,  and  as 
I  did  not  find  it  until  last  nig  ,  I  could  not  very  well  get  here 
before  this  morning." 

"Where  were  you  last  night?" 

"Under  a  tombstone,  where  I  found  my  luck.  You  may 
read  all  about  it  in  the  Evening  Transcript,  and  when  you  have 
done  that,  I'll  not  object  to  any  question  you  may  see  fit  to 
ask." 

"Under  a  tombstone — and  in  the  paper!"  and  Nora  caught 
at  the  words  as  if  they  contained  some  dreadful  secret. 

"Wait  till  Bert  comes  home  to  dinner,"  pleaded  Don;  who 
was  really  too  much  exhausted  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  relat- 
ing the  harrow'ng  details  of  his  recent  experiences  without 
first  bracing  himsvlf  up  for  it. 

"He  will  not  be  home  to  dinner,"  said  Nora.  "He  took  a 
lunch  with  him,  so  that  he  might  search  for  you  among  the 
South  Boston  machine  shops  and  foundries  during  his  noon 
hour.  He  has  searched  for  you  almost  every  day  since  I  saw 
you  on  the  Common,  and  has  grown  thin  worrying  about  you." 

All  along,  since  his  return  to  the  house,  Don  had  been 
keeping  a  tight  rein  upon  his  f^-elings;  now  they  broke  bounds, 
and  his  self  possession  forsook  him  entirely.  His  head  seemed 
to  be  floating  away  from  him,  and  he  had  only  strength  enough 
left  to  say  brokenly:  "Please  leave  me  until  I  cart  collect 
myself,  for  I  am  worn  out," 

Frightened  more  by  the  sight  of  his  tears  than  by  hints  of 


>A.  s-'iiS.  ;^-.; 


':iy^l 


lfU.|l^«|P||l  I  i 


AIR    CASTI.E    DON 


m 


come  to  us 

your  wound 

I    solemnly 

trouble.     I 

way  from  us 

before? 

uck,  and  as 

veil  get  here 


You  may 
en  you  have 
ay  see  lit  to 

Nora  caught 

cret. 

:d  Don;  who 

deal  of  relat- 

ices  without 

"He  took  a 
i  among  the 
tig  his  noon 

since  I  saw 
about  you." 
•n  had  been 
oke  bounds, 
lead  seemed 
igth  enough 

cart  collect 

by  hints  of 


his  adventures,  Nora  begged  forgiveness,  and  with  her  mother 
left  the  room.  They  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Don  threw 
himself  upon  the  bed  and  fell  into  a  profound  slumber  which 
lasted  till  evening.  Haunted  by  vague  apprehensions  the  little 
mother  repeatedly  went  to  him  but  finding  him  asleep  each 
time  did  not  disturb  him,  while  Nora  wandered  about  the  house 
impatiently  waiting  for  the  evening  papers,  and  for  her 
brother,  who,  she  was  certain,  wo.Md  dispel  the  clouds  that 
darkened  her  thoughts. 

Meanwhile,  curiosity  was  rampant  at  the  Covert  house. 
When  the  express  wagon  reached  the  widow's  door,  Miss 
Agincourt,  who  was  addicted  to  that  uncanny  habit  of  per- 
verted natures,  nail-biting,  sat  at  her  window  gratifying  her 
appetite  for  herself  by  nibbling  at  her  finger  nails  with  as  much 
avidity  as  if  they  were  bonbons.  Ceasing  from  her  feast  she 
seized  her  lorgnette  and  leveled  it  upon  Don  and  his  new 
trunk.  Here  was  a  trial  for  her  faith — for  her  confident  belief 
in  Don's  downfall.  Impatiently  taking  a  gormandizing  bite 
at  her  right  thumbnail,  which  already  resembled  a  mutilated 
duck-bill,  she  hurried  down  stairs  to  confer  with  the  kindred 
souls  of  Covert  and  his  wife. 

"That  Donalds  boy  is  back  again,"  ohe  said,  petulantly,  and 
jerking  her  head  and  twisting  her  lips  for  emphasis;  "and  what 
is  very  strange,  he  has  a  big  new  trunk  with  him  and  is  more 
stylishly  dressed  than  he  ever  was  before." 

Assuming  an  air  of  the  most  disinterested  solicitude,  Mrs. 
Covert  replied:  "If  his  fortunes  have  changed  he  should  have 
come  back  to  us,  for  I  am  sure  that  his  brothers  would  not 
approve  of  his  boarding  on  the  other  side  of  the  Square," 

Nettled  to  think  that  her  envy  was  not  directly  approved, 
Miss  Agincourt  resorted  to  insinuation,  her  favorite  weapon, 
saying:    "It  is  more  than  likely  that  his  brothers  are  content 


w 


196 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


1% 

m' 


to  let  him  keep  out  of  sight.  While  they  were  here  they 
never  so  much  as  mentioned  his  name.  I  hope  that  my  old 
bachelor  uncle  has  not  been  wasting  any  more  money  upon 
him."  By  this  last  remark  she  exposed  the  secret  of  her  hos- 
tility to  Don;  expecting  legacies  in  the  event  of  the  colonel's 
death,  she  was  morbidly  jealous  of  every  one  to  whom  he 
happened  to  take  a  fancy. 

"The  widow  is  using  her  imp  of  a  daughter  as  a  bait  for  a 
boarder,"  said  Covert,  contemptuously.  And  thus  the  whole- 
some trio  continued  for  some  time  to  interpret  the  widow's  and 
Don's  affairs  by  the  little  fire-bug  lights  they  carried  under 
their  own  wings. 


t^-^vj^lh,  .^■>*-;S 


.4.r.:*\Ci-.^-  ■*'-  '■"•*■■"  ■  ■^■'^'*^'  ■* 


;  here  they 
:hat  my  old 
loncy  upon 
of  her  hos- 
he  colonel's 
}  whom  he 

a  bait  for  a 
I  the  whole- 
ividow's  and 
rried  under 


CHAPTER   XX. 


A  QUBRR  TEMPTATION. 

When  Bert  returned  he  burst  into  the  liouie  like  a  besom 
flourishing  an  evening  paper  around  his  head  so  triumphantly 
it  was  on  the  verge  of  being  reduced  to  tatters,  Before  he 
could  open  his  mouth  to  express  his  torrid  excitement,  Nora 
unwittingly  increased  it  by  telling  him  that  Don  was  in  the 

attic. 

Throwing  the  paper  into  his  mother's  lap,  and  without 
stopping  to  heed  her  remonstrances  against  intruding  upon 
Don's  slumbers,  he  ran  up  the  stairs  as  if  his  feet  were  winged 
like  those  of  Mercury  and  entered  the  room  without  ceremony. 
The  riot  of  his  joy  was  suddenly  checked  when  he  looked  upon 
the  face  of  his  chum,  it  was  so  changed  by  the  m.arks  his  trials 
had  left  upon  it.  Seeing  that  he  did  not  stir,  and  prompted  by 
an  ungovernable  longing,  Bert  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed 
and  leaning  over  threw  his  left  arm  around  Don. 

"Wake  up!  Wake  up,  you  everlasting  good  for  nothing 
scamp!'  he  exclaimed  with  feelings  that  were  quiveringly  at 
variance  with  the  letter  of  his  words. 

"Scampi"  The  words  pierced  the  sleeper's  dull  senses  like 
a  splinter,  and  forthwith  he  was  thrown  into  a  long  compli- 
cated nightmare  of  congested  misfortunes  through  which  he 
fell  into  abysmal  depths  with  the  velocity  of  lightning,  while 
hoarse  echoes  accused  him  of  being  a  lost  and  irredeemable 
vagabond  and  'scamp.' 

(199) 


UtimiMmiiJiumimmdliiiiltim 


iii 


mmmft 


i,»LiiM]ii..Miy.iii|iiiijiii,«iiji.iiLjtjiiMii;^iJi|^y' 


200 


Ain    CA8TLE    DON 


The  horror  of  that  descent  so  stirred  his  chain-botind  facul- 
ties that  by  a  supreme  convulsion  of  energy  he  seized  the  >'dge 
of  a  projecting  crag,  and  with  a  long  drawn  sigh  of  infinite 
relief  climbed  back  into  daylight  and  a  bright  world  again. 

Seeing  Bert's  eyes,  within  a  foot  of  his  own,  glimmering 
through  unmistakable  tears,  and  finding  that  his  own  heart 
was  puffing  up  like  an  airy  bubble  ready  to  vanish  into  nothing 
again  he  stretched  forth  his  arms,  saying  brokenly:  "Let's 
have  a  hug,  old  fellow." 

When  that  sacred  act  was  over,  he  arose  with  something 
of  his  former  springiness,  and  after  plunging  his  face  into  cold 
water  and  drying  it  again,  he,  with  towel  still  in  hand,  stood 
looking  at  Bert  as  mutely  as  though  his  tongue  had  melted 
and  slipped  down  his  throat. 

"Well!"  he  finally  articulated,  "how  are  you,  you  awful 
boy?"  It  was  not  much  of  a  speech,  yet  it  was  enough  to  let 
the  steam  on,  and  after  it  their  tongues  went  ahead  like  a  pair 
of  linked  locomotives. 

"If  I  were  able,"  Bert  began,  "I  would  take  hold  of  you  and 
shake  you  around  this  room  worse  than  you  ever  shook  that 
Phillips  and  Sampson  boy  around  that  bookstore." 

"Yes,  shake  him,"  interrupted  Nora,  bursting  into  the 
room  just  in  time  to  hear  the  shake  part  of  the  sentence,  "but 
in  addition  b*"  ought  to  be  scourged  forty  times  save  one. 

"Whom  would  you  save  the  one  for?"  asked  Don,  reflecting 
the  exultation  and  joy  that  shone  so  brightly  in  her 
countenance. 

"For  myself,"  she  retorted  quickly,  and  it  ought  to  be  as 
heavy  as  all  the  rest  put  together,  for  allowing  myself  to  tor- 
ment you  with  my  giddy  and  impertinent  questions  when  you 
were  all  worn  out.  But,  Oh,  Don,  after  all,  I  couldn't  help  it, 
could  I?" 


■tt 


Ain    CASTLE    DON 


201 


"Let's 


"I  rather  think  not,  seeing  that  you  are  a  girl,"  he  replied, 
laughing  in  spite  of  his  endeavor  to  keep  sober. 

She  had  the  evening  paper  in  her  hand;  she  had  rapidly 
read  the  sympathetic  reporter's  succinct  yet  graphic  account  of 
Don's  adventures,  and  was  so  tossed  between  conflicting  feel- 
ings and  conjectures  that  she  became  incoherent  the  moment 
she  undertook  to  express  herself. 

Having  made  several  futile  attempts  to  get  at  the  things 
that  lay  between  the  printed  lines,  she  was  impatiently  inter- 
rupted by  her  brother,  who  was  himself  eager  to  ask  a  thous- 
and questions  more  or  less. 

"Now,  Gipsy,"  he  said,  calling  her  by  the  name  that  he 
himself  had  fastened  upon  her,  "please  put  a  padlock  upon 
your  mouth  for  a  season.  A  little  pitcher  like  you  ought  to 
be  seen  and  not  heard — at  least  not  until  the  bigger  one  has 
had  its  say.  I  am  going  to  call  Don  to  a  strict  account  for  his 
'sins  and  transgressions,'  as  you  are  fond  of  saying  when  you 
wish  to  whip  either  of  us  around  a  stump.  If  there  is  anything 
left  after  I  get  through  you  can  pick  it  up  and  handle  it  as 
you  please. 

"But  in  the  first  place,  let  me  tell  him  what  a  picnic  I  had 
this  afternoon.  I  was  behind  the  counter  feeling  as  glum  as 
an  apple  paring  that  has  lost  its  insides,  when  Mr.  Ticknor 
called  me  into  the  counting  room  and  handed  me  the  paper 
containing  the  account  of  'Don  Donald's  Resurrection,'  and 
'His  Debut  in  the  Role  of  a  Detective.'  Mr.  Ticknor  had 
become  interested  in  the  mystery  of  your  fate,  and  in  my 
attempts  to  solve  it,  and  when  he  gave  me  the  paper  and  told 
me  to  take  time  to  read  the  flaming  local,  his  eyes  were  rather 
watery,  though  his  lips  were  doing  their  best  to  smile. 

"Before  I  had  time  to  finish  the  story,  the  colonel  came 
swinging  in  looking  as  if  he  had  just  closed  the  Mexican  War. 


I 


I 


^ 


•aiimm 


Ml  HJimjumMiODiBIWi 


m 


:  t 


m^fmm 


202 


ilili!ii^-^'^''^s;f?:^pP 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


He,  too,  had  been  reading  about  that  tombstone  business  and 
had  brought  a  paper  over  for  me  to  read.  Finding  that  I  was 
already  deep  in  the  story,  he  and  Mr.  Ticknor  began  to  talk 
and  laugh  rejoicingly  over  your  coming  to  life  again. 

"The  upshot  of  it  was,  they  packed  me  down  to  Brattle 
street  to  see  how  much  of  the  story  was  true.  When  I  got 
there,  that  old  Mr.  Vonberg  had  just  got  through  reading 
about  you  and  himself  and  was  so  excited  that  he  deluged  me 
with  a  perfect  flood  of  broken  lingo  from  which,  however,  I 
was  able  to  make  out  that  everything  the  reporter  wrote  was 
true.  When  he  said  that  you  had  gone  straight  to  the  widow's 
house  after  leaving  his  store,  I  should  have  blubbered  if  I  had 
not  braced  myself  up  by  saying  that  you  was  an  idiot  for  not 
having  gone  there  before.  He  objected  strongly  to  that  view 
of  your  conduct,  and  nonplussed  me  by  saying  that  if  you  had 
not  made  your  bed  under  a  gravestone,  his  family  would  not 
have  recovered  their  property,  nor  would  the  robbers  have 
been  brought  to  Justin  Although  he  has  a  broken  tongue, 
he  has  a  long  head,  and  judging  from  what  he  said,  he  has 
taken  a  strong  fancy  to  you  on  your  own  account. 

"When  I  got  back  to  the  store,  Mr.  Ticknor  was  reading 
your  adventures  to  Grace  Greenwood  and  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson,  who  had  happened  in  during  my  absence.  I  made 
my  report,  and  then  you  ought  to  have  heard  the  chattering 
they  did,  and  all  about  you.  Mr.  Emerson  told  me  to  give 
you  his  sincere  compliments,  and  to  say  to  you  for  him  that 
hereafter  you  must  take  for  your  motto,  'Nil  Desperandum.' 
And  lest  I  should  get  the  motto  wrong  end  foremost,  he 
repeated  it  and  explained  it.  The  others  said  such  a  message 
from  such  a  man  was  as  much  as  I  could  carry  at  one  time. 
But  they  wanted  me  to  let  you  know  that  they  all  said,  ditto. 

"So  there  you  are,  old  fellow,  with  your  name  in  the  papers 


-  ^'''' 

-$')'••: 


tttUmmtm 


uyiHiiyj^jupf  iji^ 


siness  and 
that  I  was 
an  to  talk 
n. 

to  Brattle 
hen  I  got 
;h  reading 
eluged  me 
lowever,  I 
wrote  was 
le  widow's 
jd  if  I  had 
lot  for  not 
1  that  view 
if  you  had 
would  not 
>bers  have 
;n  tongfue, 
id,  he  has 

as  reading 
?h  Waldo 
;.  I  made 
chattering 
ne  to  give 
r  him  that 
)erandum.' 
•emost,  he 
a  message 
one  time, 
said,  ditto, 
the  papers 


[■HI— yy)j»!i]Hi'iri 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


203 


in  good  style,  and  in  the  hearts  of  people  who  are  worth  having 
for  friends,  and  next  week  you  will  be  in  Vonberg's  store  as 
big  as  life,  taking  your  first  lessons  in  selling  the  outward  signs 
of  respectability. 

"Upon  the  whole  I  am  almost  glad  you  started  for  the 
West,  though  I  must  still  protest  that  if  you  had  gone  as  far 
as  that  awful  Chicago,  it  would  have  been  the  total  end  of 
you.  I  should  be  willing  to  go  as  far  as  Albany  myself  if  I 
could  come  out  of  the  big  end  of  the  horn  as  you  have." 

"God  forbid  that  you  should  ever  be  as  I  have  been !"  said 
Don  fervently,  shuddering  at  the  bare  recollection  of  the 
anguish  he  had  endured. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  tea  bell,  and  Bert  did  not 
get  an  opportunity  to  reach  the  lash  of  his  intention  till  quite 
late  in  the  evening.  After  tea  they  were  surprised  by  a  call 
from  the  colonel,  who  said:  "I  did  not  think  of  coming  when 
we  sent  our  compliments  from  Ticknor's;  but  after  I  got  away 
from  business  I  became  strongly  desirous  of  seeing  what  a 
resurrected  boy  looks  like.  You  do  not  appear  to  be  quite  as 
rugged  as  you  were  when  I  last  saw  you.  Still,  you  look  quite 
substantial  for  one  who  has  graduated  from  beneath  a  grave 
stone." 

"There  is  enough  of  me  left  to  make  another  start,"  said 
Don,  "although  I  must  confess  that  I  feel  as  if  I  had  passed 
through  a  very  grave  crisis." 

"Of  course — of  course,"  the  colonel  responded,  smilingly. 
"And  hearing  you  speak  so  gravely  of  making  another  start 
reminds  me  to  tell  j  ou  that  you  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
one  of  my  best  friends,  and  a  Teuton  of  the  first  water.  Mr. 
Vonberg  was  the  major  of  my  regiment;  a  braver  soldier 
never  went  into  battie,  and  a  kinder  man  never  came  out  of 
one.    The  sons  are  chips  of  the  old  block,  and  the  firm  is  one 


ii»'  III.)  jiui|i|W«miMM»lli»l|Jllfcllll«HJ] 


■'tV'i?g" 


Hiii|iiHH  j  »;i!ilii  B.ii.JMJ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 

of  the  best  in  Boston.  I  am  going  around  to  see  him  this 
evening,  and  I  shall  take  care  that  his  good  impression  of  you 
suffers  nothing  from  my  visit. 

"But  before  I  go  there  I  shall  call  upon  my  niece,  Arabella. 
She  swears — if  she  ever  swears  at  all — by  the  Evening  Tran- 
script, from  which  she  has  doubtless  learned  by  this  time  that 
you  were  not  born  to  be  trampled  into  the  mire.  If  she  has 
not  learned  this  much  I  shall  try  to  open  her  understanding 
by  droppin"  a  little  oil  upon  the  hinges  of  her  mind."  And 
the  peculiar  emphasis  he  threw  into  his  words  left  the  impres- 
sion upon  the  boys  that  his  lubrications  would  not  be  drawn 
from  that  oil  of  gladness  the  prophet  speaks  of. 

When  the  colonel  entered  the  Covert  house  he  found  his 
niece  holding  the  Transcript  in  her  lap  as  if  it  were  a  pet  cat 
or  pug,  although  her  countenance  was  far  from  being  the  epi- 
tome of  satisfaction  that  such  a  burden  is  supposed  to  inspire. 
She  had  read  Don's  adventures  with  decidedly  mixed  emo- 
tions; indeed,  she  was  trying  to  navigate  herself  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis;  in  other  words,  she  was  in  a  strait 
betwixt  her  animosities  and  her  sympathies.  She  had  nearly 
concluded  that  it  was  better  co  depart — from  her  animosities, 
and  to  be — with  her  sympathies;  for,  to  do  her  justice,  the 
thick  powder  on  her  face  had  not  entirely  smothered  the  higher 
sensibilities  of  her  nature. 

"Ah,  I  see  that  you  have  been  reading  about  Don,"  said 
the  colonel,  looking  at  her  with  such  a  penetrating  glance  that 
she  instinctively  let  her  eyelids  droop. 

"Yes,  I  have  read  that  extraordinary  story,  but  I  doubt  its 
truth." 

"Oh,  of  course!  You  doubt  everything  that  runs  counter 
to  your  prejudices.  I  take  especial  pleasure  in  informing  you 
that  every  word  of  that  account  is  true;  the  only  fault  to  be 


Pf 


pm  «■ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


205 


him  this 
on  of  you 

Arabella, 
ing  Tran- 
time  that 
f  she  has 
Tstanding 
d."  And 
le  impres- 
be  drawn 

found  his 
:  a  pet  cat 
g  the  epi- 
to  inspire, 
ixed  emo- 
f  between 
n  a  strait 
lad  noarly 
tiimosicies, 
iistice,  the 
the  higher 

)on,"  said 
[lance  that 

'.  doubt  its 

is  counter 
•ming  you 
ault  to  be 


found  with  it  is  that  the  half  has  not  been  told.  I  have  called 
to  say  to  you  that  if  hereafter  you  interfere  with  him  in  any 
way  I  shall  cut  you  off  from  my  will  with  a  shilling." 

Arabella  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Vonbergs,  and  she 
understood  that  her  uncle's  visit  was  intended  to  anticipate 
her  in  any  possible  adverse  influence  she  might  wield  over  that 
amiable  family.  His  threat  led  her  to  swift  repentance,  and 
she  became  precipitately  forward  to  promise  all  manner  of 
good  concerning  her  future  relations  to  Don. 

The  colonel  went  on  to  the  Vonbergs  chuckling  over  the 
success  of  his  missionary  efforts.  But  while  he  was  smoking 
a  pipe  with  his  old  comrade  in  arms,  and  discussing  Don's 
adventures  and  character,  he  took  good  care  to  inform  the 
major  oi  his  niece's  failings  and  to  warn  him  against  her 
prejudices.  "She  was  the  means  of  his  leaving  our  store,"  he 
said,  bitterly,  "and  the  direct  cause  of  all  his  suffering.  The 
old  cat  has  promised  not  to  touch  the  bird  again,  but  as  easy 
promises  do  not  often  change  a  hard  nature,  I  am  determined 
that  she  shall  not  have  another  chance  to  strike  her  claws  into 
him." 

"If  she  vas  drife  him  to  dot  gravestone  I  vas  hafe  to  thank 
her  vor  saiing  our  broperty,  und  den  I  vas  tell  her  she  needn't 
do  dot  some  more,"  said  the  major  with  a  grave  face,  yet 
twinkling  eyes. 

Dorothy  listened  to  the  conversation,  and  thinking  that  her 
father's  levity  was  ill-timed,  she  heatedly  said:  "If  Arabella 
says  anything  against  that  boy  here,  she  will  get  into  hot 
water." 

"Und  dot  vill  be  goot  vor  her  gomblection,"  he  responded 
while  placidly  watching  a  circle  of  smoke  he  had  just  blown 
from  his  lips. 

"I  see  that  the  trial  of  those  burglars  is  to  begin  to-morrow 


206 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


-  ir 


it 


I 


r.  * 


morning,"  said  the  colonel,  "and  I  suppose  you  will  all  have  to 
go  into  court  as  witnesses.  I  should  like  to  attend  myself, 
for  it  is  likely  to  prove  amusing  as  well  as  interesting." 

The  trial  was  interesting  beyond  all  expectation,  and  the 
lawyer  who  defended  the  robbers  indulged  in  a  piece  of  legal 
jugglery  that  almost  upset  the  gravity  of  Judge  Russell,  who 
was  the  husband  of  one  of  Father  Taylor's  daughters,  a  regular 
attendant  at  the  Mariners'  Church,  and  who  was  quite  well 
acquainted  with  Don's  antecedents  before  he  made  his  unfor- 
tunate trip  to  Albany.  The  lawyer's  defence  was  intended 
chiefly  to  secure  a  mitigation  of  sentence.  And  the  theory  of 
his  side  included  the  assumption  that  Don  was  himself  an 
accomplice  of  the  burglars,  and  that  the  other  two,  supposing 
that  they  heard  the  approach  of  a  policeman  in  the  cemetery, 
fled  incontinently,  leaving  the  plunder  with  Don,  who,  being 
the  most  hardened  of  the  three,  was  not  so  easily  alarmed. 
It  was  also  assumed  that,  while  escaping  with  the  plunder,  he 
saw  a  policeman  apparently  following  him,  and,  thereupon  to 
secure  himself,  turned  into  the  station  with  it,  and  there  related 
an  impromptu  story  accounting  for  the  bag  being  in  his  pos- 
session. From  the  evidence  elicited  from  Don  concerning  his 
wanderings  and  night  experiences,  he  tried  to  build  up  a  claim 
that  he  was  nothing  but  a  vagabond  with  such  a  surplus  of 
smartness  as  would  naturally  make  him  a  precocious  criminal 
of  the  first  water. 

Arabella  being  present,  instead  of  being  astounded  by  this 
ingenious  piece  of  sophistry,  really  began  to  hope  that  it  would 
prove  true.  Don  perspired  in  helpless  amazement  at  this 
aspect  of  the  case,  while  Bert,  who  sat  at  his  side,  laughed  so 
openly  that  the  court  officer  was  compelled  to  punch  him  into 
sobriety. 


fwf^ig'njit'i  ■WAIV/'W!^'^!!^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


207 


The  defence  was  so  weak  it  fell  at  th'^  first  breath  of  the 
prosecutor,  and  the  burglars  were  sentenced  to  fifteen  years  in 
the  penitentiary. 

Don  had  often,  in  his  air  castle  moods,  aspired  iu  appear  in 
print.  Two  pin-feathered  poems  of  his  had  been  published  in  a 
weekly  paper  when  he  was  at  an  age  in  which  most  boys  are 
content  if  they  are  quit  of  petticoats  and  pinafores.  He  was 
now  in  print  to  his  heart's  content,  for  as  both  local  and 
general  news  was  scarce,  the  reporters  made  the  most  of  all 
the  circumstances  connected  with  his  case.  He  was,  indeed, 
beginning  to  feel  uneasy  in  the  glare  of  publicity,  and  fre- 
quently reminded  himself  of  Peter  Piper's  warnings  against 
trying  to  mount  the  airy  ladder  which  only  angels  can  ascend 
or  descend  with  safety  or  comfort. 

Bert,  with  vindictive  gusto,  replied  to  his  self  depreciating 
fears  by  saying:  "But  just  think  what  a  torment  it  must  be 
for  that  tallow-faced  Deacon  Wickworth  and  that  peppermint- 
eating  Arabella  to  see  the  kind  things  that  have  been  said  of 
you  in  the  city  papers.  It's  as  good  as  if  their  chairs  had  been 
stuck  full  of  big  pins.  You  will  go  into  the  Vonberg  store 
with  flying  colors,  and  that  will  be  worse  than  fire  and  brim- 
stone to  the  small  cannibal  souls  that  would  have  made  roast 
meat  of  you." 

When  Don  reported  for  duty  at  the  store  he  was  handed 
a  package  of  forty-one  fat  letters,  the  largerpart  of  which  were 
addressed  in  feminine  handwriting.  The  package  had  been 
accumulating  ever  since  the  morning  following  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Copp's  Hill  incident.  Although  greatly  surprised 
at  this  influx  of  correspondence  and  curious  to  know  what  it 
meant,  he  would  have  laid  the  letters  by  till  after  businses 
hours  had  not  the  major  insisted  upon  his  taking  time  to  give 
them  his  immediate  attention. 


't*' ---"'- ■;-'ii"-~'<fa -•-<---  ;..  ...-<^i  .■■■■. .-,jr;-  -J.,  -  ^:^i^  '^    iiiiiiiiiiririi'iriiiiiiii-i  \r 


^     "•'*  *  -■"ftvlt^L^iS 


piumi  r|L  mill  ■■n^jjii  ,1  (    ji ).  iij  mt,  jt  I  HI  iMunji  ■iimt,Lj.ii.n'ii.ii>»<iiiL 


206 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


The  letters  were  from  anonymous  sympathizers  who,  with 
a  solitary  exception  enclosed  money  for  Don's  benefit.  The 
total  of  these  contributions  was  two  hundred  and  eighty-six 
dollars.  Don  was  profoundly  moved,  as  were  the  Vonbergs 
also,  by  this  sympathetic  display  ot  modest  generosity  on  the 
part  of  entire  strangers. 

After  a  moment  of  silence  Don  surprised  the  major  and  his 
sons  by  saying:  "Not  one  dollar  of  that  money  belongs  to 
me,  and  my  duty  is  clear.  I  shall  bank  it,  and  then  go  straight 
to  the  papers  and  give  notice  that  I  am  not  in  need  of  assist- 
ance, and  shall  request  my  unknown  friends  to  recall  their  gifts. 
The  very  sight  of  that  money  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  an 
imposter  preying  upon  people  whose  sympathies  have  run 
away  with  their  judgments." 

The  major  and  the  younger  son  remonstrated  against  his 
plan  as  being  equivocal  in  spirit  and  impracticable  for  .execu- 
tion. The  elder  son  thought  the  poini  of  honor  well  taken  and 
approved  Don's  determination.  Stacking  the  letters  upon  the 
desk  and  stuffing  the  money  in  his  |)ockets,  Don  departed 
upon  his  errand. 

"Veil,  py  Jubitor,  und  all  the  rest  of  dose  heathen  vellers!" 
exclaimed  the  major,  explosively,  as  he  disappeared,  "dot  poy's 
brincibles  vas  like  chilled  steel  vat  you  can  neither  bend  nor 
break.  Vat  you  say,  mein  sons,  if  ve  vas  make  him  cashier  at 
ten  dollars  a  veek  instead  of  sefen?  My  colonel  say  mit  me 
yesterday  dot  he  vas  goot  at  writing  und  goot  at  figtires  und 
goot  at  eferything." 

The  cashiership  had  been  vacant  for  several  weeks,  and  the 
sons  approved  of  their  father's  suggestion  with  enthusiasm. 


...:;s£afeESffiiiEiJM^I^l»!3a'cJl«*?v*fei*'ft  '*«s')ft'W»te.  ^^^ 


inn  mm.  mm  I  tnvi} 


who,  with 

nefit.    The 

eighty-six 

Vonbergs 

sity  on  the 

jor  and  his 
belongs  to 
go  straight 
d  of  assist- 
I  their  gifts. 
I  were  an 
I  have  run 

against  his 
for  f xecu- 
I  taken  and 
rs  upon  the 
n  departed 

en  vellers!" 
,  "dot  poy's 
r  bend  nor 
1  cashier  at 
say  mit  me 
iig-ures  und 

;ks,  and  the 
[lusiasm. 


■■•wwwi;'; 


i2:id'*is?i'.*«(Fv!ie#-t'**j 


A  TKLtlNO  ILLUSTRATION. 

There  is  enough  water  under  the  great  Sahara  Desert  to 
make  it  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  there  is  enough  benevolence 
underneath  the  howling  wilderness  of  society  to  work  the  same 
wonders  for  itself  should  it  ever  be  sufficiently  tapped.  From 
this  vast  latent  fountainhead  have  come  forth  the  streams  which 
have  ameliorated  the  horrors  of  war.  of  famine,  of  plagues  and 
the  desolations  that  have  been  wrought  by  hurricanes,  con- 
flagrations and  all  the  other  untoward  forces  that  devastate  the 
earth. 

In  1  SI  all  way  Don  had  tapped  this  hidden  fountain  of 
benevolence,  and  once  started  it  was  not  easy  to  stop.  The 
notice  to  his  unknown  friends  was,  as  he  had  been  forewarned 
by  the  newspaper  men,  futile  so  far  as  the  recalling  of  ;heir 
gifts  was  conce|Tied.  And  not  only  so,  but  the  recent  trial, 
together  with  the  comments  of  the  friendly  newspaper  men,  so 
augmented  the  stream  of  gifts  that  the  sum  mentioned  in  the 
previous  chapter  was  more  than  doubled. 

"You  vas  hafe  to  vait  till  it  stops  raining,"  said  the  major, 
"pefore  you  can  sleep  out  toors  again  or  hafe  any  more  afflic- 
tions. You  vas  hafe  a  mind  of  your  own,  und  the  bublic  vas 
hafe  some  mind  of  its  own  as  veil  as  you  vas." 

And  this  conviction  "was  triumphantly  expressed  by  Bert 
himself,  who  had  vainly  tried  to  argue  and  to  ridicule  Don  out 
of  what  he  called  his  country  notions  of  honor  and  honesty. 

(209) 


ii 


i"fiVltfli<ilNfr'i'ti'riliSl"'¥iMfeftifcii 


iiiiliiS^ 


MitujA^mMm 


t".W„l\j^,l'f,fffW 


ri. 


t. 


AIR    CA8TLR    DON 


Some  of  the  later  gifts  were  sent  anonymously  through  the 
ofHces  of  the  papers,  and  the  fact  was  mentioned  in  their  col- 
umns. This  provoked  a  correspondent  \o  intimate  that  Don 
was  taking  advantage  of  the  puhlic,  and  the  insinuation  so 
rankled  in  his  mind  he  could  scarcely  cat  or  sleep. 

Something  in  the  correspondent's  letter  excited  the 
colonel's  suspicion  that  Arabella  had  written  it,  but  on  being 
questioned  she  strenuously  denied  having  any  knowledge  of 
its  authorship.  Not  until  he  obtained  the  original  copy  and 
confronted  her  with  her  own  signature  did  she  acknowledge 
her  transgression.  Having  a  West  Pointer's  ideas  of  truth 
and  honor,  he  washed  his  hands  of  all  further  dealings  with 
her  and  left  her  to  the  conviction  that  she  had  effectually  cut 
off  the  limb  in  wl.ich  she  had  hoped  to  build  her  old-age  nest. 
It  was  in  vain  that  she  tried  to  regain  his  favor  by  publishing 
a  second  letter  confessing  that  she  was  unjust  in  the  first.  He 
was  implacable.  , 

The  annoyance  Don  suffered  from  her  malice  was  swal- 
lowed up  by  a  paragraph  he  happened  to  see  in  one  of  the 
nioi-ning  papers.  It  v/as  a  brief  chronicle  of  the  fact  that  Bob 
Flanger,  the  engineer,  and  Jake  Cullum,  his  fireman,  had  both 
been  killed  in  a  railway  collision.  The  death  of  these  two 
roundhouse  saints  who  had  been  so  signally  kind  to  him  in  his 
distress  aflfected  him  deeply,  and  practically  as  well. 

Wiring  to  Albany,  he  found  that  he  could  reach  there  in 
time  for  the  funeral  of  the  two  men. 

"Can  I  go?"  he  asked  of  the  major,  after  informing  him  of 
all  the  circumstances. 

"Go,  und  Gott  pless  you,  mein  poy,"  said  the  major,  tear- 
fully appreciating  the  spirit  that  animated  his  young  cashier. 

Getting  off  at  Greenbush.  the  scene  of  his  first  misfortune, 
he  went  directly  to  the  roundhouse,  where  he  was  speedily 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


through  the 
in  their  col- 
ktc  tiiat  Don 
sinuation  so 
I, 

excited  the 
but  on  being 
inowledge  of 
lal  copy  and 
acknowledge 
leas  of  truth 
lealings  with 
flfectually  cut 
old-age  nest. 
)y  publishing 
:he  first.    He 

ce  was  swal- 
n  one  of  the 
fact  that  Bob 
nan,  had  both 
of  these  two 
to  him  in  his 
well, 
each  there  in 

trming  him  of 

e  major,  tear- 

oung  cashier. 

st  misfortune, 

was  speedily 


211 


recognized  by  two  men  who  had  ministered  to  his  hunger 
while  he  lay  upon  the  wheelbarrow  tattered  and  bruised. 

"Poor  Bob  and  Jake  have  given  their  last  whistle  and  rung 
their  last  bell,"  said  one  of  the  men,  brushing  his  eyes  with  the 
sleeve  of  his  blue  check  shirt. 

"Yes,  I  know  it;  and  I  have  conio  to  attend  their  funeral," 
Don  replied.  "I  have  got  Bob's  hat  yet."  he  added,  recogniz- 
ing one  of  the  men  as  the  one  who  had  jestingly  ridiculed  him 
for  saying  that  he  would  keep  the  hat  as  a  memento  of  the 
engineer. 

Both  men  had  believed  in  Don's  respectability  even  when 
he  looked  so  battered  and  forlorn,  and  they  were  not  partic- 
ularly surprised  at  his  reappearing  at  the  roundhouse  in  the 
garb  of  a  young  gentleman.  But  when  they  learned  that  he 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Boston  to  honor  the  memory  of  the 
dead  men,  and  that  he  really  kept  Bob's  hat  as  a  precious 
souvenir  of  the  engineer,  Sam  Langley,  the  elder  of  the  two, 
came  up  to  him  and,  putting  a  hand  on  each  shoulder,  and 
looking  him  in  the  face,  said:  "Young  fellow,  you  make  me 
believe  in  human  nature.  And  that  is  -saying  a  great  deal  for 
one  who  has  knocked  about  the  world  for  more  than  fifty  years. 
Let's  have  another  shake,  for  the'-e  is  no  telling  how  soon  I 
shall  have  to  follow  Bob  and  Jake."  And  he  shook  Don's 
hand  with  a  heartiness  that  made  it  ache. 

"You  ought  to  be  stuck  up  in  a  pulpit  for  a  headlight  or  a 
steamboiler — I  scarcely  know  which,"  exclaimed  Lem  Dudley, 
the  younger  of  the  two  men,  who  was  also  a  freight  engineer, 
stroking  Don's  right  shoulder  caressingly  with  a  hand  that 
looked  as  if  it  could  knock  down  an  ox. 

"Did  Bob  and  Jake  leave  families?"  Don  asked,  in  pur- 
suance of  one  object  he  had  in  view  in  returning  to  Albany. 

"Why,  of  course,"  replied  Langley;  "did  you  ever  know 


,,i^^.' 


»«  t    I    I  1>i^ 


:v.,:/>;^L:jj:--!38a 


1 1 


if' 


212 


AIR    CA8TLB    DON 


a  railroad  man  that  was  wortli  his  salt  that  didn't  have  a 
family?  Bob  leaves  a  wife  and  four  little  tots;  and  Jake  had  a 
wife  and  five  children,  one  of  whom  is  as  blind  as  a  bat.  And 
the  worst  of  it  is,  neither  of  them  were  very  forelianded.  The 
men  along  the  road  arc  making  up  a  subscription  to  be  divided 
between  the  two  families;  and  when  it  conies  to  that  sort  of 
business  they  don't  do  things  by  halves,  I  t  ,n  assure  you." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Don,  warmly.  "Will  you  let 
mc  put  my  name  on  the  list?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  have  got  anything  to  spare  "  Langley 
responded  gladly,  pulling  out  a  subscription  list  which  was 
already  quite  numerously  signed. 

Don  took  the  i)apcr  and  after  affixing  his  name  hesitated 
some  moments  before  he  filled  in  the  amount,  for  it  was  neces- 
sary that  reflection  should  go  before  decision.  He  had  pre- 
viously resolved  that  the  money  which  had  come  to  him  from 
his  unknown  correspondents  should  be  used  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  and  his  chief  object  in  visiting  Albany  was  to  determine 
whether  or  no  some  of  it  might  not  be  advantageously  applied 
to  the  families  of  the  dead  engineer  and  his  fireman.  The 
details  of  the  accident  by  which  they  lost  their  lives  showed 
that  they  had  sacrificed  themselves  for  the  safety  of  a  passenger 
train. 

Observing  his  hesitation,  Langley  said:  "You  needn't 
make  it  very  hard  on  yourself,  you  know;  every  little  helps." 

"I  was  trying  In  decide  how  much,  and  not  how  little  I 
could  give,"  Don  replied.  I  think  I  have  decided  upon  the 
right  thing,  and  will  put  down  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  for  Bob's  family,  and  the  same  amount  for  Jake's." 
And  he  filled  in  these  figures,  adding:  "Although  I  put  this 
on  the  paper,  I  shall  carry  the  money  to  the  families  myself 


^  |: 


In't  have  a 
Jake  had  a 

bat.     And 
liulcd.     The 

bo  divided 
tliat  sort  of 
re  you." 
Vill  you  let 

Langley 
t  which  was 

me  hesitated 
it  was  neccs- 
He  had  pre- 

to  him  from 
the  benefit  of 
I  to  determine 
jously  applied 
ireman.    The 

lives  showed 
of  a  passenger 

"You  needn't 
y  little  helps." 
)t  how  little  I 
ided  upon  the 
tid  twenty-five 
It  for  Jake's." 
ugh  I  put  this 
lamilies  myself 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


before  the  funeral  takes  place,  for  it  may  comfort  them  to 
know  that  Providence  has  not  forsaken  them." 

And  before  the  men  could  recover  from  tlieir  astonishment 
lie  told  them  his  story  as  briefly  as  he  could,  and  explained  the 
motive  of  his  action.  "And  now,  if  you  will  tell  me  how  to  find 
the  families  I  will  get  this  thing  off  my  mind  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"If  we  don't  go  with  you  as  guides  they  will  be  apt  to  think 
that  you  need  a  guardian,"  said  Langley,  who  was  more  than 
half  inclined  to  think  that  the  whole  transaction  would  turn  out 
a>  an  illusion. 

"If  you  can  spare  the  time,  so  much  the  better;  you  will 
save  me  the  trouble  of  making  too  many  explanations." 

They  went  with  him,  and  the  details  of  what  followed  may 
be  safely  left  with  the  reader's  imagination.  After  seeing  and 
ministering  to  the  families,  Don  felt  as  if  life  had  a  new  mean- 
ing and  magnitude.  Responsibility  and  duty  became  new 
words  to  him,  and  he  became  convinced  that  even  a  boy  might 
be  of  some  use  to  the  world. 

Before  he  left  Greenbush  he  erected  a  small  drinking  foun- 
tain in  the  roundhouse  for  the  benefit  of  the  railway  men.  It 
bore  the  inscription:  "Sacred  to  the  Memory  of  Robert 
Flanger  and  Jacob  Cullum.  Erected  by  a  Boy  Who  Knew 
Them  as  Roundhouse  Saints  and  Railway  Heroes." 

The  Reverend  John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  still  blessed 
Albany  with  his  stately  presence  and  brilliant  light.  He  was 
an  'up  to  date*  preacher  with  a  strong  partiality  for  newspaper 
illustrations.  Certain  old-fashioned  people  intimated  that  he 
knew  far  more  about  the  newspapers  than  he  did  about  the 
Bible,  and  that  his  preaching  was  inspired  more  by  the  spirit 
of  the  age  than  it  was  by  the  Spirit  of  The  Almighty.    They 


I 


/.f^iAlft-kjJtii.'S.iitA-^Vt^i^^^j^,.^^- 


yUaUnuMuiiCifai 


yj»W»  fc-r-y.-. 


'3SS 


i; 


^: 


■f^; 


■  u;,;i!.ai.i.;^.. 


■ .  rfiVjinHfUi  TT^iHiMjim'iwtattJitpuBy 


iitiiiiilfiniiili'irriri-i 


214 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


said  that  his  morning  paper  always  took  precedence  of  his 
morning  prayers. 

All  acknowiedged,  however,  that  he  had  a  great  aptitude 
for  'telling  illustrations.'  To  do  him  justice,  he  seldom  read  a 
paper  wit!iout  discovering  fresh  material  for  pulpit  ammuni- 
tion. Opening  his  journalistic  purveyor  one  morning  he  was 
immediately  attracted  to  a  column  or  more  of  matter  which 
was  big-headed  with  the  words,  "Pathetic  Precocity  of  a 
Juvenile  Philanthropist." 

The  Roundhouse  Fountain  had  been  discovered  by  the 
press.  By  interviewing  the  roundhouse  men  and  other  people 
to  whom  the  roundhouse  men  referred  them,  the  reporters 
acquired  a  clear  outline  of  Don's  doings  and  experiences  from 
the  time  of  his  first  appearance  in  Albany  up  to  his  second, 
and  his  benefactions  to  the  relicts  of  the  late  Robert  Flanger 
and  Jacob  Cullum.  Some  things,  however,  escaped  their  pur- 
suit, and  among  them  was  Don's  visit  to  the  popular  Doctor 
of  Divinity. 

Doctor  Lovejoy  became  so  engrossed  in  the  reporters'  dis- 
coveries that  tears  clouded  his  expressive  grey  eyes  aiid  ran 
down  to  the  point  of  his  more  expressive  Roman  nose.  "What 
a  Telling  Illustration  that  will  make!"  he  exclaimed  with  the 
keen  discernment  of  a  professional  sermon-architect.  He  cut 
it  out  with  his  polished  clippers  and  triumphantly  consigned  it 
to  a  mahogany  boxlet  marked,  "Telling  Illustrations."  Here 
was  an  auspicious  inspiration  for  his  next  Sunday  morning 
sermon.  A  suitable  text  was  not  far  to  find.  To  the  'illustra- 
tion' he  pinned  the  words:  "Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters, 
for  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days."  With  such  a  luminous 
text  pinned  to  such  a  voluminous  illustration  he  was  in  a  fair 
way  of  adding  to  the  fame  of  his  illustrious  name. 

Not  content  with  this  beginning,  he  crossed  the  river  to 


Bin 


■■,»».iii.»lyi!l  iiwi^jiyr^lPiilpyyMlyt 


9Pf 


i  liiiiUlHHiiiipHHjiiin  III 


mrtmimfm 


mSSi' 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


215 


Greenbush,  interviewed  the  roundhouse  men,  as  he  contem- 
plated the  memorial  fountain,  and  from  them  went  to  Mrs. 
Flanger  and  Mrs.  Culluni  for  further  verification  of  the  news- 
paper account.  The  more  he  investigated,  the  faster  his  ser- 
mon grew.  It  sprang  up  like  the  magic  tree  of  the  Hindoo 
magician. 

When  he  preached  that  sermon,  his  fashionable  congrega- 
tion became  a  fountain  of  tears;  although,  truth  to  tell,  they 
were  moved,  not  so  much  by  the  inspirations  of  the  text,  as 
by  the  'telling  illustration',  of  which  the  text  was  but  a  prelude 
or  a  jug-handle.  It  was  the  almost  unanimous  conviction  of 
the  audience  that  for  eloquence  and  pathos  the  sermon  eclipsed 
all  previous  efforts  of  the  renowned  pastor.         - 

The  Monday  morning  press  contained  a  verbatim  report  of 
the  doctor's  masterpiece.  Although  severely  fatigued  by  the 
strain  of  the  preceding  day,  the  doctor  sat  down  in  his  luxur- 
ious study  and  read  his  own  sermon  from  beginning  to  end. 
He  cut  it  out  and  pasted  it  in  a  vellum  scrapbook  already 
plethorically  full  of  other  sermons  preserved  in  a  similar 
manner. 

Having  done  this  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction,  he  turned  to 
open  his  morning  mail.  The  first  letter  he  took  up  bore  the 
Boston  office  mark.  There  had  been  intimation  of  his  being 
called  to  fill  the  pulpit  of  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  The 
Athens  of  America.  This  was  a  thick  letter.  What  if  it  should 
contain  the  coveted  call! 

Daintily  clipping  one  end  of  the  envelope  he  reversed  it  and 
shook  the  contents  upon  the  elegant  study  table.  The  first 
arrival  from  the  interior  was  a  silver  ten-cent  piece;  the  next, 
several  newspaper  clippings;  and  last,  came  the  letter. 
Puzzling  as  was  the  silver,  he  put  it  in  his  vest-pocket;  and 
eager  as  was  his  curiosity  concerning  the  sender  of  the  missive, 


.^< 


'I 

-'-  'ii 


-2 
I 


Tafflf7TTTanTi><'''i''w,ittij''i^>'ij>ji  ";if '  iMpT»^»wagiiijlf;wi^^ 


j^^J^ar^mtufi 


Tmfm. 


, 


216 


AIR   GASTLB    DON 


his  attention  was  riveted  by  the  appearance  of  the  name,  Don 
Donalds,  in  the  scrap  that  lay  face  toivard  hUv..  He  thereupon 
read  the  scraps  first,  and  was  delighted  to  find  abundant  con- 
firmation of  the  sketch  he  had  given  of  the  character  of  The 
Juvenile  Philanthropis*.  the  day  before. 

He  next  looked  at  the  signature  of  the  letter.  Bertrand  J. 
Williams.  He  knew  of  no  one  by  that  name.  He  turned  to 
the  contents  of  the  letter  for  enlightenment,  and  —  was 
enlightened. 

When,  after  his  return  from  the  sojourn  in  the  wilderness, 
Don  related  to  Bert  his  experience  with  the  Reverend  John 
Paul  Lovejoy,  D,  D.,  there  was  a  violent  storm  of  juvenile 
indignation  which  was  slow  to  abate.  And  when  Don  left 
Boston  to  make  his  second  visit  to  Albany,  Bert  bethought 
himself  of  writing  a  letter  to  the  Albany  clergyman.  This 
letter  was  so  ingeniously  put  together  that  the  writer  must 
have  perspired  over  it  as  if  he  were  sitting  on  a  steam  boiler. 
He  enclosed  the  scraps  as  evidence  of  Don's  standing  in 
Boston.  He  informed  the  doctor  of  Don's  object  in  visiting 
Albany,  and  described  his  previous  visit,  and  scathed  the  rever^ 
end  gentleman  for  slamming  his  door  in  the  face  of  an  unfor- 
tunate who  was  far  better  as  a  boy  than  the  preacher  was  as  a 
man.  As  a  measure  of  his  manhood  and  a  reminder  of  the  ten 
cents  so  insultingly  oiTered  to  Don,  and  as  a  compensation  for 
the  energy  he  had  expended  in  slamming  the  door  he  enclosed 
the  ten  cents,  with  the  request  that  he  should  bore  a  hole  in  it 
and  wear  it  around  his  neck  as  a  commemorative  medal. 

Surprised  as  the  doctor  was  to  discover  that  the  boy  he  had 
treated  with  such  scant  courtesy  and  grace  had  turned  out  to 
be  the  Juvepile  Philanthropist  upon  whom  he  had  expended 
his  tropical  eloquence,  he  was  indignant  beyond  endurance. 
Indignant  to  think  that  anyone,  even  in  classic  Boston,  should 


m  utMA.w  -111  ■i.ii'*<fv*^)artOTM« 


g^wi''^.w!»yi»;,-wj^-!!  f-'  ■ 


e  name,  Don 
le  thereupon 
bundant  con- 
racter  of  The 

Bertrand  J. 
He  turned  to 
:,   and  —  was 

le  wilderness, 
everend  John 
m  of  juvenile 
hen  Don  left 
ert  bethought 
gyman.  This 
e  writer  must 
steam  boiler. 
3  standing  in 
ect  in  visiting 
hed  the  rever^ 
e  of  an  unfor- 
icher  was  as  a 
ider  of  the  ten 
iipensation  for 
3r  he  enclosed 
re  a  hole  in  it 
'.  medal, 
he  boy  he  had 
turned  out  to 
had  expended 
id  endurance, 
loston,  should 


^llluj.i.W'iJiT.B.  l■J^l.ll^l■^ll^llly,yll^,lMlJl^l^|ll^,■^^llH.lli  i  ,i 


Am    GA8TLB    DON 


217 


write  to  him.  The  Reverend  John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  in  such 
pointedly  incriminating  and  contemptuous  terms.  And  the 
Ten  Cents!  Was  ever  such  an  insult  offered  to  a  Doctor  of 
Divinity  before! 

Who  was  this  presumptuous  Bertrand  J.  Williams?  He 
studied  the  letter.  The  chirography  and  construction  were 
unimpeachable.  There  was  no  trace  of  juvenility  in  it, 
although  the  impertinence  of  it  indicated  someone  who  was 
the  very  impersonation  of  "sassiness." 

There  was  one  comfort;  the  revelations  of  the  letter  could 
be  kept  from  the  Albany  public.  The  radiance  of  his  telling 
sermon  and  its  "Telling  Illustration"  should  not  be  dimmed  by 
the  discovery  of  his  shabby  treatment  of  the  boy  whom  he  had 
lauded  to  the  skies  with  such  pathetic  and  effective  fervor. 

Alas!  for  all  human  calculations  and  security.  Fame  has 
its  penalties  and  dangers.  The  great  sermon  was  reprinted  in 
the  Boston  papers.  And  Bert  wrote  a  note  to  the  press  expos- 
ing the  difference  between  the  eloquent  doctor's  preaching  and 
practice.  The  shuttle  wove  its  thread  between  Boston  and 
Albany.  The  note  was  reproduced  in  the  Albany  press,  and 
finally  it  was  announced  that  the  doctor,  having  a  chronic  sore 
throat,  would  be  obliged  to  seek  another  climate. 

The  reporter  of  the  Transcript,  who  was  the  first  to  give 
sympathetic  publicity  io  Don's  adventures,  and  who  continued 
to  be  his  firm  friend,  caustically  wrote,  in  somewhat  labored 
classic  terms:  "The  doctor  leaves  Albany  with  the  hot  shirt 
of  Nessus  on  his  back  and  the  avenging  feet  of  Nemesis  at  his 
heels."     . 

Don  knew  nothing  of  what  Bert  was  doing  until  it  was  too 
late  to  remonstrate.  All  he  could  say  then  was:  "You  are  an 
awful  boy,  Bert,  but  I  did  not  think  that  you  could  be  so 
wicked." 


liMlf 


It  should  be  said  before  closing  this  chapter  that  the  doctor 
purchased  a  cigar  with  Bert's  ten  cents  and  meditated  upon  the 
mutability  of  human  events  while  blowing  the  smoke  from  his 
eloquent  lips. 


ippfJlffHiji.M.i  ,J 


^^^'t^^J^^^p^^^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"^-'iC  ^-K  ■""*- 


'M^:j^^:^-i^y' 


^f^f!l!il^!'-W? 


^"[;^!-:''yy*'!''l'!!iWj'wtry^''''^jjjji^^'^-f;y'=*''^''^^^^^ 


mi»H"wiir>"vwnffW  i 


t  the  doctor 
ed  upon  the 
ke  from  his 


^•0. 'r.f^unfyw.m.m^l  M  iHM«%%l\i 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


.?•?/•■■ 


PICKING  UP  A  PROTBOB. 


Nora  was  an  interrogation  point.  When  she  could  not 
answer  herself,  she  carried  her  questions  to  the  attic  for  solu- 
tion. "Who  are  The  Boston  Originals?"  she  asked  one  even- 
ing with  wrinkled  brow. 

"You  must  be  one  of  them,  for  that  is  certainly  an  original 
inquiry,"  said  Don.    "Tell  us  what  you  mean." 

"I  was  going  down  Hanover  street  this  afternoon,  and  at 
114  I  saw  printed  in  big  letters  at  the  entrance  of  the  narrow 
stairway,  'The  Boston  Originals.  Meeting  Held  Every  Sun- 
day Evening  on  The  Top  Floor.'  I  have  heard  of  a  good 
many  denominations,  but  I  never  heard  of  that  one  before." 

"You  know  as  much  about  them  as  I  do,"  said  Bert,  "and  I 
supposed  that  I  was  as  well  acquainted  with  the  oddities  of 
Boston  as  any  one  could  be,  seeing  that  I  am  to  the  manor 
bom." 

"That  is  such  an  odd  title,  we  shall  have  to  go  there  next 
Sunday  night  and  find  out  what  it  means,"  remarked  Don, 
musingly. 

"Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  don't  go!  It  might  be  worse  than 
going  to  hear  Theodore  Parker,"  exclaimed  Nora,  taking 
alarm. 

"If  the  Originals  should  prove  to  be  as  good  as  he,  it  would 
certainly  pay  us  to  go,"  Bert  retorted,  sturdily.  "What  do  you 
say,  Don?" 

(219) 


• ': r- j- •■•'•li'"'  '^■"^ '""'■''■  -•■'  ■'■  -'gi>i*:^a-»-s^-  -  --  ■  >■'." ■st^.i^ 


■P*!l"*'^*i^i^#if!ii'^^ 


H*I^!!W1" 


!9W^ 


mr 


I' 


'I 

Si. 


Si 


220 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"Originality  is  a  scarce  article;  it  is  something  we  should 
search  for.  Besides,  Nora's  curiosity  is  certainly  justifiable, 
and  we  will  go  there  in  the  spirit  of  investigation  so  that  we 
may  be  able  to  gratify  her  with  some  degree  of  intelligence." 

"If  you  do  go,  it  shall  not  be  on  my  account,"  said  Nora, 
firmly.  "You  shall  not  pack  the  blame  of  that  meeting  on  my 
shoulders  as  you  did  in  the  case  of  the  Faneuil  Hall  meeting,  to . 
which  I  sent  you.  I  am  not  playing  Mother  Eve  this  time.  If 
you  find  any  forbidden  fruit  there,  you  will  have  to  blame  you^ 
selves  for  it." 

"We  will  assume  all  the  re-spon-si-bil-i-ty  ourselves,"  Bert 
said  with  grave  pomposity. 

On  going  to  the  hall  the  boys  discovered  that  they  were  in 
Adullam's  Cave — ^an  assembly  of  social,  political  and  religious 
malcontents  of  both  sexes,  who  were  set  against  everything 
from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the  sun.  The  men  wore  locks 
that  hung  down  to  their  shoulders,  and  the  women,  hair  that 
was  cropped  close  to  their  skulls.  The  men  looked  as  lean 
and  hungry  as  Cassius,  and  the  women  as  leathery  and  big- 
boned  as  furies.  The  atmosphere  was  pervaded  with  the  odors 
of  unwashed  bodies,  old  clothes,  beer,  bologna  and  tobacco. 
Each  one  looked  at  his  fellow  as  if  questioning  his  right  to 
existence. 

They  were  presided  over  by  the  notorious  Leroy  Sunder- 
land, an  apostate  preacher  and  celebrated  mesmerist,  whose 
life,  it  was  alleged,  was  a  flat  contradiction  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. After  leading  in  singing,  which  sounded  like  the 
wailings  of  lost  spirits,  and  in  a  prayer  that  addressed  nobody 
and  asked  for  everything  that  would  tend  to  turn  society  topsy- 
turvy, he  made  a  short  address  which  clearly  showed  that  he 
was  a  professional  Ishmaelite,  whose  hand  was  against  every- 


i**»s;*»fe'a*'i 


ling  we  should 
inly  justifiable, 
ion  so  that  we 
intelligence." 
nt,"  said  Nora, 
meeting  on  my 
lall  meeting,  to 
re  this  time.  If 
to  blame  you^ 

wrselves,"  Bert 

lat  they  were  in 
al  and  religious 
linst  everything 
men  wore  locks 
omen,  hair  that 
looked  as  lean 
athery  and  big- 
d  with  the  odors 
ia  and  tobacco, 
ing  his  right  to 

Leroy  Sunder- 
esmerist,  whose 
■  the  Ten  Com- 
ounded  like  the 
dressed  nobody 
n  society  topsy- 
showed  that  he 
s  against  every- 


■  i.  V!r*K'Va»',Si)f* 


body  and  who  rejoiced  in  having  everybody's  hand  turned 
against  him. 

"Well,"  whispered  Don  to  Bert,  "I  guess  we  have  put  our 
foot  into  it  deep  this  time." 

"Yes,"  responded  Bert  with  a  grimace,  "and  it  will  be 
deeper  still  when  we  make  oui  report  to  thav  Nora  of  ours." 

After  Sunderland's  speech  the  meeting  was  "thrown  open" 
to  anyone  who  wished  to  speak.  This  was  the  signal  for  a 
fusillade  of  sharpshooting  against  everything  in  sight  and  out 
of  sight. 

"Has  anything  hit  you  yet?"  asked  Don  of  Bert,  after  list- 
ening in  a  dazed  way  to  the  tirades  of  the  speakers. 

"Lots!"  said  Bert  sententiously. 

Presently  a  man,  who  was  evidently  a  foreigner,  began  to 
anathematize  the  United  States  and  everything  connected  with 
it.     Others  followed  in  the  same  vein. 

This  is  getting  altogether  too  hot  for  me,"  whispered  Don, 
indignantly.  "If  they  keep  this  up  you  will  have  to  hold  me 
down." 

"Blaze  away!"  exclaimed  Bert  excitedly.  "It  seems  to  be 
a  free-for-all  fight.  I'll  help  push  you  up  if  you'll  only  pitch  in. 
Men  who  talk  that  way  about  this  country  ought  to  be  flung 
out  of  it." 

There  was  a  lull.  Don  drew  his  feet  under  him  and  started 
to  rise,  but  another  was  before  him. 

The  new  speaker  was  a  man  of  foreign  accent  with  a  schol- 
arly command  of  the  English  language.  His  dark,  curly  hair 
was  slightly  streaked  with  gray,  but  his  heavy  moustache  and 
side  whiskers  were  as  black  as  jet.  He  was  seedily  dressed, 
yet  there  was  that  in  his  student-like  face  and  refined  bearing 
that  inspired  respect.  His  dark  eyes  were  large  and  beautiful, 
His  tones  were  clear  and  cultivated. 


■n 


222 


•-•|lTWTIW||ll|ip|||,t|,|^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


He  began  by  saying  that  he  was  an  exile  from  Hungary, 
where  he  had  once  possessed  both  wealth  and  influence, 
though  now  he  was  without  a  roof  to  his  head  or  the  means  of 
purchasing  the  common  necessities  of  life.  In  his  wanderings 
on  the  street  he  had  seen  the  sign  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and 
had  entered  the  meeting  as  a  means  of  resting  his  weary  feet. 
Yet,  unfortunate  as  he  was,  he  rejoiced  in  being  in  the  United 
States,  the  ideal  of  his  dreams  and  the  queen  of  the  nations  of 
the  earth.  He  pictured  the  woeful  condition  of  Hungary  and 
Poland  under  the  feet  of  the  oppressors  and  contrasted  it  with 
the  happy  state  of  things  in  this  country. 

Waxing  warm  and  growing  eloquent  as  he  proceeded,  he 
began  a  series  of  polished,  yet  startling  invectives  and  denun- 
ciations against  the  speakers  who  had  spoken  ill  of  their  coun- 
try, and  closed  by  declaring  that  they  were  so  unworthy  of  it 
they  ought  to  be  driven  from  it. 

Don  and  Bert  were  so  excited  that  they  clapped  their  hands 
and  pounded  the  floor  with  their  feet  until  they  were  exhausted. 
Their  example  proved  contagious  to  others  who  were  in  the 
hall,  and  the  confusion  was  so  great  that  Sunderland  closed  the 
meeting. 

Don  and  Bert  held  a  hurried  and  earnest  consultation,  and 
with  results  that  followed  immediately.  They  intercepted  the 
stranger  as  he  was  aboin  to  leave  the  hall,  and  taking  him  aside, 
invited  him  to  go  home  with  them. 

Looking  keenly  into  the  two  frank  faces  awaiting  his 
answer,  he  said  in  subdued,  almost  quivering  tones:  "I  am  a 
stranger  to  you,  and  you  are  too  young  to  invite  me  to  your 
home  without  first  taking  counsel  of  those  who  usually  deter- 
mine matters  of  this  kind.  Nevertheless,  I  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart." 

"You  are  in  hard  luck,  and  I  know  what  that  is  by  experi- 


*fj"t'.'<pi!l»yf  nn.i»*. 


i,Wl.iP»iLlt."'ii»"'«B'  'r."!''H''""'*''i""''"''"^'^  ifm'itiimffiM  ,i ..  '4"'*V'i|!'<yj 'yV'l""li-|lit  J  iwip. 


Hungary, 
influence, 
,e  means  of 
ivanderin9;s 
:  stairs  and 
weary  feet, 
the  United 
;  nations  of 
mgary  and 
sted  it  with 

jceeded,  he 
and  denun- 
their  coun- 
vorthy  of  it 

their  hands 
:  exhausted, 
were  in  the 
i  closed  the 

Itation,  and 
ircepted  the 
1^  him  aside, 

waiting  his 
s:  "I  am  a 
me  to  your 
iually  deter- 
you  with  all 

s  by  experi- 


AIB   0A8TLB    DOI? 


ence.  We  believe  that  you  are  a  gentleman  notwithstanding 
the  unfortunate  situation  you  hinted  at  in  your  very  eloquent 
address,  and  it  will  be  to  your  advantage  to  go  with  us,"  And 
Don  spoke  so  sympathizingly  that  his  words  went  straight  to 
the  heart  of  his  listener. 

"Better  accept,"  said  Bert  bluntly,  "for  we  are  in  earnest. 
In  one  sense,  I  am  the  master  of  the  house  to  which  you  are 
invited,  and  my  mother  and  sister,  who  are  the  only  ones  to 
consult,  if  such  a  thing  needed  to  be  done,  will  heartily  approve 
of  any  invitation  I  see  fit  to  extend  to  anyone.  We  are  plain 
common  people,  who  use  words  to  express  what  we  mean." 

"I  will  go  with  you;  and  more  gladly  and  thankfully  than  I 
can  tell,"  said  the  stranger,  and  with  so  much  relief  depicted  in 
his  face,  that  both  boys  were  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
they  had  run  no  risks  in  giving  such  an  impromptu  invitation 
to  one  they  had  never  seen  before. 

"My  name  is  Conrad  Krasinski,"  he  continued  as  soon  as 
they  had  reached  the  street,  "and  I  will  tell  you  more  about 
myself  when  I  am  better  able  to  confirm  my  representations." 

The  boys  gave  their  own  names  and  impulsively  assured 
him  that  they  were  not  looking  for  vouchers  of  his  respecta- 
bility, for  that  was  sufficiently  evidenced  by  the  speech  he  had 
made  in  the  hall,  and  by  his  looks  and  manners. 

Two  of  the  boarders  had  gone  away  Saturday  night,  leav- 
ing a  comfortable  room  vacant,  and  in  the  hasty  consultation 
held  with  Bert,  Don  had  said:  "You  have  a  vacant  room,  and 
I  have  over  half  of  that  anonymous  fund  still  in  the  bank.  Put 
him  in  there  and  I  will  pay  his  board  out  of  that  fund  till  some- 
thing turns  up  for  him.  Or  better  still,  I  will  pretend  to  loan 
him  seventy-five  dollars,  so  that  he  can  pay  his  board  himself 
and  leave  your  mother  and  Nora  in  ignorance  of  his  destitu- 
tion.   That  will  put  him  on  a  better  footing  in  his  own  estima- 


pi 

%1 


■:^i 


■I 

I  y, 

i 


-■p';i.'.s*;:&'Aaaack^.- 


mWiitt-iiHwrtftniiiwaJ 


tiuummmimmiiimiaiti^laa 


;--^i»^n'»»mmimttftVmi- 


t:  J 


,||>i>  #»■>  1 1( 


*Bm-^mtili,t^ 


^m^ssmisBt(fi 


w 


I'  *"i»"F''^ 


224 


Ain    OAETLB    DON 


tion,  and  will  encourage  him  to  do  the  best  he  can  for  himself. 
I  will  tell  him  of  the  arrangement  for  secrecy  so  far  as  we  are 
concerned,  and  charge  him  not  to  give  us  away." 

And  in  accordance  with  this  plan  Krasinski  was  intro- 
duced to  the  household  as  a  new  boarder,  and  conducted  to  his 
room  by  the  boys,  where  they  left  him  with  best  wishes  for  a 
good  night's  rest  and  more  cheerful  outlooks  for  his  future 
prospects. 

"Where  did  you  pick  up  that  distinguished  foreign-looking 
gentleman?"  asked  Nora,  when  they  returned  to  the  sitting 
room  to  report  to  their  little  censor  and  mentor. 

"At  The  Boston  Originals,"  said  Bert,  promptly.  "He  was 
the  chief  speaker;  and  a  glorious  speech  it  was,  too,  in  favor  of 
our  country.  We  got  acquainted  with  him,  and  finding  that 
he  was  seeking  for  a  boarding  place,  we  brought  him  home 
with  us,  leaving  him  to  send  for  his  baggage  when  it  would  be 
more  convenient  for  him.  We  will  report  further  some  other 
time."    And  taking  Don  by  the  arm,  he  led  him  off  to  the  attic. 

"You  are  an  awful  boy,"  said  Don  laughing,  to  think  how 
expertly  Bert  had  extricated  them  from  an  embarrassing 
position. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  early,  and  hearing  Kralsinski 
stirring  in  his  room,  they  sought  entrance  to  explain  their 
plans,  and  to  settle  his  footing  in  the  house. 

Overwhelmed  by  their  kindness  he  broke  his  reserve,  say- 
ing: "I  was  professor  of  languages  in  The  Budapest  Univer- 
sity, and  a  member  of  the  Hungarian  House  of  Deputies.  But 
having  been  an  active  co-worker  with  Louis  Kossuth  in  the 
attempt  to  free  the  Hungarian  people,  I  was  obliged  to  flee 
from  the  country.  I  have  been  here  but  a  short  time.  Being 
disappointed  in  my  remittances,  I  was  turned  out  of  my  board- 
ing house,  and  my  baggage  was  retained  for  my  indebtedness. 


'■'^- 


wnr 


T?f^«wv>r 


t  for  himseU. 
:ar  as  we  are 

ki  was  intro- 

ducted  to  his 

wishes  for  a 

or  his  future 

reign-looking 
to  the  sitting 

;ly.  "He  was 
x>,  in  favor  of 
i  finding  that 
[ht  him  home 
En  it  would  be 
er  some  other 
)f!  to  the  attic. 
,  to  think  how 
embarrassing 

ing  Krasinski 

explain  their 

f 

is  reserve,  say- 
dapest  Univer- 
Deputies.  But 
Cossuth  in  the 
obliged  to  flee 
t  time.  Being 
It  of  my  board- 
y  indebtedness* 


■  ^-^  'aft?;rJSft*jrfa)a«'wqM«*Bs*ari&»£B*«**^ 


ji.T^iejWi*?*"*'' 


^,Si^.^-,««KWS«fi«Si»'^*-SWSM«^^ 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


With  the  money  you  offer  to  advance  I  can  pay  the  small 
amount  due  and  reclaim  my  baggage  and  papers.  In  time  I 
hope  to  obtain  a  private  class  in  the  languages  and  make  my 
own  way  again.  Your  kindness  has  saved  me  from  the  horror 
of  walking  the  streets  at  night,  and  made  it  possible  for  me  to 
begin  anew.  I  can  assure  you  that  you  will  lose  nothing  by 
your  generosity  to  me." 

This  revelation  stunned  the  boys.  Bui  regaining  theirself- 
possesFion,  they  soon  discovered  that  they  experienced  no  dif- 
ficulty in  maintaining  easy  terms  with  the  professor.  Don  said 
he  would  redeem  the  baggage  at  noon  and  furnish  him  with 
seventy-five  dollars  at  the  same  time.  And  he  would  also 
claim  the  honor  of  being  his  first  private  pupil  in  Latin  and 
Greek.  Bert  said  he  would  be  the  second ;  and  if  the  professor 
could  teach  French,  his  sister  Nora  should  be  the  third  pupil. 

The  professor  said  he  could  teach  both  Fre  h  and  German 
in  addition  to  the  classical  languages,  and  he  was  so  relieved  by 
the  sudden  change  from  killing  care  to  comparative  comfort 
that  his  face  was  literally  transfigured.  And  when  he  accom- 
panied the  boys  to  breakfast  Nora  thought  he  was  the  most 
fascinating  and  entertaining  gentleman  she  had  ever  seen. 
Nor  was  her  pleasure  diminished  when  Bert  informed  her  that 
she  was  to  take  French  lessons  of  him.  The  little  mother  her- 
self was  captivated  by  his  grace  and  breeding,  and  congratu- 
lated herself  on  having  the  good  fortune  to  secure  such  a 
boarder. 

When  the  boys  left  the  house  for  their  daily  duties,  Nora 
kissed  Bert,  and  said:  "If  Professor  Krasinski  is  the  kind  of 
company  they  keep  at  The  Boston  Originals,  you  may  go'there 
again."  She  noticed  that  her  brother  shrugged  his  shoulders 
briskly,  and  thinking  that  her  kiss  was  not  welcome,  she  ran 
into  the  house  in  a  pout,  forgetting  even  to  say  her  usual  morn- 


I 


■'I 


8B»SSI??Ss 


■  ..■,:t\..L,.  „  -■■■li:  .y.:,/tif.^L'-  ■,<  r^-^::,  ..:.>    ^zj:^ir«!-.i.,A^ 


..--.-■ijn^ 


fi?^-: 


ifMppp 


ill 


r  fj 


i  )| 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


inj^  g-ood  bye  to  Don,  an  omission  which  clouded  her  whole 
forenoon. 

"Now,  Bert,"  said  Don,  when  they  were  clear  of  the  house, 
"this  affair  must  be  kept  out  of  the  papers,  for  the  professor 
would  not  like  to  appear  as  the  protege  of  such  a  pair  of  juven- 
ile imps  as  we  are." 

"If  the  public  knew  that  you  had  taken  him  under  your 
wings,  and  that  you  were  spending  that  trust  money,  as  you 
call  it,  for  hie  benefit,  it  would  be  the  making  of  him,"  was  the 
quick  and  earnest  reply. 

"Solemnly  promise  me  that  you  will  do  all  you  can  to  keep 
this  cat  in  the  bag,  or  I'll  cut  your  acquaintance." 

"I  solemnly  promise,  so  help  me.  But  what's  the  use? 
We  may  tie  our  end  of  the  bag  as  tightly  as  we  please — that 
won't  p  revent  the  cat  from  bursting  out  at  the  other  end.  The 
reporters  are  lorgnetting  you  as  closely  as  that  Arabella 
Powderface  is  lorgnetting  our  house,  and  so  long  as  the  game 
is  in  sight,  they  are  not  going  to  give  up  the  chase  for  news." 

"Well,  if  V  e  two  keep  our  mouths  sealed,  they'll  be  bafHed." 

"What  if  the  professor  should  open  his?" 

"He  is  a  gentleman,  and  gentlemen  do  not  pin  their  private 
affairs  to  their  sleeves." 

The  professor  was  a  gentleman!  He  showed  it  in  every- 
thing he  did  or  said,  notwithstanding  he  was  a  bachelor.  He 
was  a  rare  teacher,  and  his  three  pupils  became  so  enthusiastic 
under  his  instructions  that  others  were  soon  added  to  their 
number. 

Not  long  after  the  discovery  of  the  professor  by  the  two 
boy«,  Louis  Kossuth,  the  Hungarian  patriot,  for  whose  blood 
the  Austnans  were  thirsting,  arr:%red  in  this  country.  As  his 
deliverance  from  his  eneniies  was  effected  through  the  inter- 
vention of  the  United  States,  he  was  greeted  by  great  throngs 


'  m  %i  iwu-yiWiiltPii  '■j;i.^ww. 


wrajiMiiJ  w>"it'";y'.'«">'J.iw'^y' 


''rm 


AIR    CA8TLK    DON 


227 


d  her  whole 

of  the  house, 
the  professor 
lair  of  juven- 

i  under  your 
loney,  as  you 
lim,"  was  the 

u  can  to  keep 

lat's  the  use? 
e  please — that 
lier  end.  The 
that  Arabella 
g  as  the  game 
ase  for  news." 
yr'll  be  baffled." 

in  their  private 

ed  it  in  every- 
bachelor.  He 
so  enthusiastic 
added  to  their 

sor  by  the  two 
Dr  whose  blood 
)untry.  As  his 
ough  the  inter- 
y  great  throngs 


wherever  he  went.  On  his  approaching  visit  to  Boston  he  was 
tendered  a  review  of  the  troops  on  the  Common  and  the  com- 
pliment of  a  public  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall.  When  he  arrived 
the  professor  was  in  a  state  of  exalted  excitement.  The  day 
was  set  apart  as  a  city  holiday.  Quite  early  in  the  morning  he 
appeared  in  the  attic  where  he  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  as  if 
he  were  but  a  boy  himself,  and  invited  them  to  accompany  him 
to  the  Revere  House,  whither  he  was  going  to  make  a  call 
upon  his  old  chief  and  friend,  Louis  Kossuth. 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  introduce  you  to  him,  and  as  my 
best  friends,  too,"  he  said,  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  man  who 
was  sure  of  the  ground  he  stood  upon. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  hotel,  hundreds  were  already 
seeking  access  to  the  rooms  of  the  great  magyar.  But  the  pro- 
fessor's card  secured  access  in  precedence  of  all.  The  moment 
he  entered  the  room,  Kossuth  fell  upon  his  neck,  embraced  him 
and  kissed  him  again  and  again.  And  both  men  were  so  over- 
whelmed with  emotion  that  it  was  sometime  before  they  could 
speak.  The  boys  felt  as  if  they  were  intruding,upon  the  holy 
of  holies  of  friendship. 

The  professor  took  them  by  the  hand  and  said:  "Louis  I 
must  introduce  to  you  these  two  boys;  they  saved  me  from 
death  by  starvation,  and  have  been  the  brightest  joys  I  have 
had  since  my  arrival  in  this  great  country."  And  while  Kos- 
suth received  them  with  effusive  cordiality,  the  professor 
briefly  explained  what  they  had  done  for  him.  Kossuth  pat- 
ted them  on  the  shoulder,  and  to  their  overwhelming  embar- 
rassment informed  them  that  they  had  been  kind  to  one  of 
Hungary's  greatest  and  purest  men,  and  to  one  of  Europe's 
greatest  linguists  and  scholars.  He  invited  them  to  his  Fan- 
ucil  Hall  meeting  and  gave  them  tickets — which  were  selling 
high — to  secure  their  entrance. 


£*-^:s-.v«Ba«-:-':*  1 


Tjii'^imy*  liWiiiiwtfcWiii 


,ila» 


ipPpHPipp 


?>:'* 


Air    0A8TLB    DON 


Feeling  that  these  bosom  friends  would  have  much  to  say 
to  each  other  and  in  their  own  language,  the  boys  excused 
themselves  and  departed  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on 
estasy.  On  their  return  home  they  almost  frightened  Nora 
and  her  mother  with  their  revelations  and  excitement. 

The  ovation  given  to  Kossuth  was  one  of  the  greatest  ever 
given  to  any  man  in  the  United  Stales.  People  crowded  after 
him  in  the  streets;  the  review  was  attended  by  countless  multi- 
tudes, and  Faneuil  Hall  was  densly  filled  with  people,  who 
came  to  hear  him  rehearse  the  story  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
Hungarian  Republic. 

The  address  was  all  the  more  stirring  because  of  the 
conspicuous  part  the  speaker  had  taken  in  trying  to  prevent 
the  consummation  of  the  greatest  crime  of  the  modem  era. 
It  was  all  the  more  striking  for  being  delivered  in  the  purest 
English  which,  as  was  well  known,  Kossuth  learned  in  captiv- 
ity from  an  English  dictionary,  and  copies  of  Shakespeare  and 
of  the  Bible. 

Both  Don  and  Bert  were  present,  but  their  attention  was  in 
a  measure  diverted  from  the  larger  interests  of  the  occasion  by 
things  that  became  singularly  personal  to  them.  Their 
beloved  instructor,  by  the  insistance  of  Kossuth,  sat  on  the 
platform  among  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  city  and 
state.  In  his  opening  remarks,  Kossuth  referred  to  him  as 
being  present,  and  said  that  he  had  been  one  of  his  most  able 
and  trusted  compatriots,  and  one  who,  rather  than  recede  from 
the  struggle  for  independence,  had  suffered  both  confiscation 
and  exile.  He  earnestly  commended  the  professor  to  the  con- 
fidence and  the  sympathy  of  the  American  people.  It 
delighted  Don  and  Bert  to  witness  how  instantly  and  generally 
the  great  audience  cheered  for  the  professor.  But  the  next 
sentence  overwhelmed  them  with  confusion  of  mind. 


e  much  to  say 

boys  excused 

bordering  on 

ightened  Nora 

jment. 

le  greatest  ever 
e  crowded  after 
:ountless  multi- 
th  people,  who 
;  and  fall  of  the 

because  of  the 
ying  to  prevent 
;he  modem  era. 
ed  in  the  purest 
jarned  in  captiv- 
Shakespeare  and 

attention  was  in 
f  the  occasion  by 
to  them.  Their 
ssuth,  sat  on  the 
1  of  the  city  and 
ferred  to  him  as 
;  of  his  most  able 

than  recede  from 
both  confiscation 
tfessor  to  the  con- 
rican  people.  It 
ntly  and  generally 
jr.    But  the  next 

of  mind. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


(T,»r''»3?,y,«?>?'''''  •y'^r'Krm^}' 


229 


"Boston  has  the  honor,"  Kossuth  went  on,  "of  having  two 
lads  who  were  the  first  to  discover  the  presence  of  the  professor 
in  this  city,  the  first  to  recognize  his  merits,  and  the  first  to 
extend  to  him  generous  sympathy  and  material  aid." 

"Three  cheers  for  the  lads,"  shouted  some  one  in  the  gal- 
lery, and  thereupon  the  cheers  were  given  with  a  will,  to  the 
great  pleasure  of  Kossuth  and  the  intense  gratification  of  the 
professor. 

From  that  moment  the  professor's  fortunes  began  to  change 
for  the  better,  and  not  long  afterward  he  became  a  tutor  of 
languages  in  Harvard  and  a  welcome  guest  of  the  literary  and 
political  circles  of  Boston.  He  remained  loyal  to  his  young 
benefactors  and  continued  to  hear  their  recitations  and  to 
direct  their  studies. 

Immediately  after  the  Faneuil  Hall  meeting,  Krasinski  was 
interviewed  by  the  reporters  concerning  the  lads  referred  to 
by  Kossuth.  He  frankly  gave  their  names,  described  the 
occasion  on  which  he  first  met  them,  and  freely  detailed  the 
particulars  by  which  he  had  been  placed  under  such  great  obli- 
gations to  them. 

The  boys'  secrecy  availed  them  nothing.  "The  Tombstone 
Detective"  was  for  the  third  time  prominent  in  the  local  col- 
umns of  the  dailies,  but  this  time  as  Don  Donalds  plus 
Bertrand  Williams. 

The  Reverend  John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  who  had  settled 
at  Worcester,  trembled  in  his  Oxford  shoes  when  he  read  the 
latest  news  of  "The  Boy  Philanthropist,"  and  he  shivered  all 
the  more  when  he  learned  that  "Bertrand  J.  Williams,"  his 
whilom  "ten  cent"  correspondent,  was  Don's  friend,  and, 
"double,"  as  the  reporters  styled  him.  But  having  consigned 
his  great  sermon  with  its  "Telling  Illustration"  to  the  very 
bottom  of  his  barrel,  his  name  escaped  further  association  with 


'^ 


•  2 


■1 
■I 


< 


'-•0, 


.i. 


i^fe?. '#^ift^;::;;,tr  ?f;&at^ 


230 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


the  names  of  the  boys  who  had  become  such  thorns  in  his  flesh. 
The  amiable  Arabella  had  turned  up  her  naturally  "tip- 
tilted  nose"  still  further  when  she  heard  that  the  widow  had 
descended  to  the  harboring  of  a  "Hun"  for  a  boarder,  but 
when  the  reverberations  from  Faneuil  Kail  reached  her  she 
was  badly  stunned.  She  had  passed  many  an  hour  feasting  on 
The  Mysteries  of  Paris,  and  of  London  and  of  New  York;  with 
far  less  satisfaction  she  now  sat  in  her  chamber  vainly  endeav- 
oring to  dig^est  what  she  piously  called  "The  Mysteries  of 
Providence,"  so  inscrutably  deepened  by  the  accumulating 
clouds  that  persistently  arose  from  the  attic  of  the  Williams 
Boarding  House.  It  greatly  added  to  her  melancholy,  as  well 
as  to  the  envy  of  the  Coverts,  to  find  that  the  widow's  house 
was  becoming  so  celebrated  that  it  was  far  more  remunerative 
to  its  mistress  than  it  was  when  Don  shouldered  his  trunk 
across  the  Square  and  planted  his  green  self  so  near  the  sky. 


?^^''''^jf^^'^!gj^.ti! 


,.r^,.*f^,f,^^^f^u^,^>tfgf,:^^^ffmfi,j^'^m»tmW'¥''»'''V\m^  I  I  .||i  I  ^JW't'  11       |ll^f^fWpir"7l^yfPBi^BWj 


ts  in  his  flesh, 
aturally  "tip- 
le  widow  had 
boarder,  but 
iched  her  she 
ur  feasting  on 
;w  York;  with 
irainly  endeav- 
Mysteries  of 
accumulating 
:  the  Williams 
ncholy,  as  well 
widow^s  house 
e  remunerative 
ered  his  trunk 
near  the  sky. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


TALKING  THROUGH   HIS  HAT. 

Although  efforts  had  been  made  to  induce  Don  to  descend 
a  story  or  two,  he  still  retained  his  attic  quarters.  The  seclu- 
sion no  less  than  the  elevation  pleased  his  fancy.  Besides, 
both  he  and  Bert  declared  that  the  air  at  that  height  either 
came  in  fresh  from  the  country  or  from  the  sea.  Aud  the 
pattering  of  the  rain  on  the  roof  or  the  whistling  of  the  wind 
around  the  chimneys  over  their  heads  was  far  more  suggestive 
and  poetical  than  the  sound  of  footsteps  and  muffled  voices. 
Having  the  whole  upper  floor  to  themselves,  with  all  its  nooks 
and  crannies  they  were  as  independent  as  eagles  in  their  eyry. 

Bob  Flanger's  hat  had  the  place  of  honor  over  Don's 
mirror,  where  he  could  see  it  every  time  he  saw  himself,  and 
be  reminded  of  the  heroic  head  that  once  throbbed  beneath  it 
while  the  engine  thundered  on  the  rail.  More  great  thoughts 
came  from  beneath  the  battered  felt  than  were  ever  dreamed 
of  by  the  perfumed  exquisite  who,  although  he  may  believe 
that  in  the  beginning  God  created  man,  thinks  that  man  was 
not  finished  till  civilization  crowned  him  with  the  glory  of  a 
"silk  plug." 

Nora  dusted  the  hat  every  day,  and,  not  infrequently,  when 
Don  returned  at  night,  he  found  it  decorated  with  a  sprig  of 
green  or  a  spray  of  bloom  which  she  had  purchased  with  a 
portion  of  her  limited  pin-money.    But  her  display  of  senti- 

(230 


^ 

^ 


»? 


.J. 


:'M 


TW- 


232 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


ment  was  prompted  less  by  the  pleasure  it  afforded  Don  than  it 
was  by  the  memory  of  the  man  whom  he  had  cannonized  as  a 
roundhouse  saint. 

She  had  read  of  the  healing  virtues  of  Saint  Peter's  hand- 
kerchief, and  she  believed  that  there  was  virtue  in  Saint 
Robert's  hat.    "I  should  like  to  fasten  it  onto  Miss  Agin- 
court's  head  for  a  whole  week,"  she  said.    "It  might  be  the ' 
means  of  her  conversion  from  some  of  her  ugly  ways." 

Bert  laughed  immoderately  at  the  quaint  conceit,  saying: 
"She  would  cut  a  queer  figure  with  that  hat  on." 

"It  would  not  be  half  so  queer  a  figure  as  she  now  cuts  in 
the  eyes  of  the  angels  with  even  her  best  Sunday  hat,"  Nora 
retorted  with  spirit,  and  truth  withal.  "I  would  rather  be  in 
fashion  with  God  than  to  be  in  fashion  with  all  the  world 
beside." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  I  saved  that  hat,"  said  Don  sympathizing 
with  Nora's  seriousness.  "The  Bible  says  of  Abel's  faith: 
"By  it  he,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh",  and  I  am  sure  that  poor 
Bob  speaks  through  his  hat  to  me  every  time  I  look  upon  it, 
and  every  time  I  think  of  it.  All  the  while  I  was  listening  to 
Professor  Krasinski  that  night  at  The  Boston  Originals,  Bob 
was  speaking  to  me  through  his  hat  and  saying,  'There's  your 
chance  to  use  some  of  that  trust  money  you  have  on  hand  to 
good  advantage.'  And  he  spoke  truly.  He'll  tell  me  what 
to  do  with  the  rest  of  it." 

The  jovial  major,  remembering  how  carefully  Don  had 
saved  the  hat,  often  jested  with  him  about  it,  but  was  just  as 
often  met  with  the  rejoinder  that  Bob  was  speaking  through  it 
as  eloquently  as  ever.  This  seriousness,  coupled  together  with 
the  singularity  of  the  expression,  led  the  major  to  tell  Dorothy 
and  the  colonel  what  Don  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  about 
Bob  and  his  hat.    The  colonel  reiterated  it  to  Ticknor  and 


'•::^m 


1 


i:PJ.V.',4JJt?;|yfNL^pppf^gj^ 


1  Don  than  it 
inonized  as  a 

Peter's  hand- 
lue  in  Saint 
Miss  Agin- 
might  be  the ' 
ways." 
mceit,  saying: 

le  now  cuts  in 

lay  hat,"  Nora 

Id  rather  be  in 

all  the  world 

n  sympathizing 
)f  Abel's  faith: 
I  sure  that  poor 

I  look  upon  it, 
was  listening  to 

Originals,  Bob 
g,  'There's  your 
lave  on  hand  to 
'11  tell  me  what 

•efuUy  Don  had 

but  was  just  as 

aking  through  it 

led  together  with 

r  to  tell  Dorothy 

of  saying  about 

to  Ticknor  and 


AIU    GA8TLB    DON 


288 


Fields,  and  through  them  it  got  to  the  ears  of  the  literary  cele- 
brities who  congregated  there,  and  finally  to  the  pencils  of  the 
alert  reporters,  who  began  to  use  it  as  a  stock  phrase.  As 
Boston  is  supposed  to  set  the  fashion  for  literary  phraseology, 
there  is  reason  for  believing  that  this  is  the  origin  of  the 
expression,  "Talking  through  his  hat."  To  be  sure,  we  would 
not  lay  this  down  as  literary  law  and  gospel.  But  as  we  must 
account  for  everything  in  one  way  or  another,  this  is  a  good 
way-  to  account  for  the  origin  of  the  phrase.  It  might  be 
objected  that  the  expression  as  used  at  present  does  not  bear 
out  the  former  meaning.  Yet  to  this  it  may  be  replied  that 
many  words  that  were  of  respectable  parentage  have  sadly 
degenerated  from  their  primary  significance.  When  Don  first 
used  the  phra.-e,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  who  was  then  rising 
to  be  the  first  preacher  of  the  modem  pulpit,  might  have  bor- 
rowed it  without  the  slightest  danger  of  being  impeached  for 
using  slang. 

One  morning  when  Don  reached  the  store,  the  major 
handed  him  fifty  dollars,  saying  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was 
making  a  good  beginning  for  a  new  day :  "A  laty  vas  at  mein 
house  last  night,  und  from  Dorothy  she  vas  vind  out  all  about 
dot  hat  und  how  Bob  vas  talk  through  it,  und  tells  you  vat 
you  must  do  mit  dot  monish  you  receifed  from  dose  beoples 
vat  don't  hafe  any  names.  Und  she  was  gif  me  vifty  tollars 
und  say  she  don't  hafe  no  name  to  go  mit  it.  Und  you  vas 
hafe  to  ask  dot  hat  vat  you  shall  do  mit  it.  Und  if  you  vas 
vind  annuder  Brovessor  Krasinski,  or  some  udder  poor  veller 
who  vas  need  it  just  like  him,  it  vas  as  goot  as  she  vas  vant  it." 

"That  will,  make  one  hundred  and  ninety  dollars  I  have 
received  since  that  Krasinski  affair  came  out  in  the  papers," 
said  Don,  anxiously,  as  he  took  the  money ;  "all  of  it  is  to  be 
used  at  my  discretion  for  the  benefit  of  unfortunate  people ;  or, 


;« 


^1 
•1 


,.J, 


X£  :i3S***J--«'  ''Q««*«!Hjg>Sw- 


■  '1^^^!fP^Bj^f?!»  ■ 


884 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


rather,  at  the  discretion  of  Bob  Flanger's  hat.  They  ali  speak 
of  that,  and  seem  to  have  more  confidence  in  it  than  they  do  in 
some  of  the  charitable  societies.  They  say  the  winter  is 
approaching  and  times  are  so  hard  that  many  will  suffer  if  they 
are  not  helped.  But  they  should  distribute  their  own  charity, 
and  not  place  so  much  responsibility  upon  a  mere  boy." 

The  major  made  light  of  Don's  embarrassment,  and 
chuckled  aloud  as  he  replied :  "You  vas  a  zoziety  all  py  your- 
selves, mit  Bob  for  bresident,  you  for  treasurer,  und  dot  Bert 
for  segretary ;  und  you  vas  make  your  reborts  to  Nora  und  dot 
little  mudder  some  more  ven  you  vas  veels  like  it.  Dot's  all 
fery  goot,  you  see.  Dot  laty  vat  sends  vifty  tollars  ish  rich, 
und  she  say  if  you  vas  want  some  more  she  vill  gif  it  just  as 
you  say." 

"She  must  be  a  noble  woman,"  said  Don,  with  feeling. 
"Please  thank  her  in  my  name,  and  assure  her  that  I  shall 
make  a  good  use  of  what  she  has  sent,  and  account  for  every 
dollar." 

That  evening  Don  and  Bert  and  ^ora  had  just  settled 
themselves  to  their  language  lessons  when  they  heard  a  cane 
thumping  up  the  attic  stairs  with  an  emphasis  that  left  no  doubt 
in  their  minds  as  to  the  identity  of  the  approaching  visitor. 
Father  Taylor,  who  lived  near,  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  them 
frequently,  and  considered  himself  privileged  to  start  for  the 
attic  the  moment  he  had  passed  the  compliments  of  the  even- 
ing with  the  widow  in  the  hall  below.  He  always  carried  a 
heavy  hickory  cane  which  had  a  crook  that  was  as  big  as  "the 
crook  in  the  lot"  that  the  Bible  tells  of  so  mysteriously. 
Whenever  there  was  anything  particular  upon  his  mind,  that 
cane  thumped  like  an  old-fashioned  door-knocker,  to  the  great 
disturbance  of  nervous  and  timid  people  who  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  his  way. 


^WTf 


■f  >¥*  •"mit!^. 


"I.U"     f 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


286 


;y  all  speak 
they  do  in 
winter  is 
uffer  if  they 
,wn  charity, 
)oy." 

sment,  and 
all  py  your- 
nd  dot  fiert 
fora  und  dot 
t.  Dot's  all 
ars  ish  rich, 
gif  it  just  as 

vith  feeling. 

that  I  shall 

unt  for  every 

i  just  settled 
heard  a  cane 
:  left  no  doubt 
ching  visitor. 
'.  visiting  them 
,  start  for  the 
s  of  the  even- 
/ays  carried  a 
as  big  as  "the 
mysteriously, 
his  mind,  that 
:r,  to  the  great 
rere  not  accus- 


"There  comes  Father  Taylor!"  exclaimed  Nora,  who  always 
delighted  in  a  call  from  the  mariner  preacher.  "By  the  way, 
he  is  thumping  he  must  have  something  tremendous  upon  his 
mind."  The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  there  came  a 
knock  upon  the  door  that  would  have  split  the  panel  if  it  had 
not  been  proof  against  such  violence. 

"Come  in,  and  welcome,"  said  Bert,  as  he  hastened  to  open 
the  door,  and  greeted  the  visitor  with  the  cordiality  that  was 
bom  of  both  confidence  and  affection. 

"I  see  you  are  all  sailing  for  the  port  of  knowledge,"  said 
Father  Taylor,  who  rarely  spoke  without  using  nautical  terms. 
"That's  a  good  port  to  steer  for,  and  you  can't  do  better  than 
to  press  on  all  the  canvas  you  can  carry  while  going  in  that 
direction,  especially  while  you  are  young  and  taut  in  your  rig- 
ging and  stiff  and  strong  in  your  timbers.  But  I  must  run  up 
under  your  quarter  for  a  minute  or  so,  for  the  king's  business 
requires  haste." 

"Your  cane  said  business  every  step  you  took  up  the  stairs, 
and  we  have  prepared  ourselves  accordingly,"  said  Don,  lean- 
ing back  in  a  listening  attitude. 

"Spoken  like  the  hearty  that  you  are,"  Father  Taylor 
responded  with  evident  satisfaction.  "And  now  to  throw  the 
lead  at  once;  that  stevedore  we  were  talking  about  the  other 
day,  came  home  this  afternoon  with  another  wife  in  tow;  and 
that,  too,  when  his  last  one  had  been  dead  only  seven  weeks. 
You  know  what  a  brute  he  is,  and  if  my  reckoning  is  correct, 
his  new  wife  is  as  much  like  him  as  one  shark  is  like  another. 
That  only  son  of  his  didn't  run  along  side  of  her  very  heartily, 
and  by  way  of  a  wedding  feast  the  father  gave  him  a  rope's- 
ending  that  has  welted  him  from  head  to  feet.  The  boy  ran  to 
my  house  for  refuge,  and  I  have  taken  him  under  my  lee  for 
good.    Got  papers  from  the  Humane  Society  for  that  purpose. 


« 


.-.„-_5«._ 


iiJWljIifl 


WfWS^w^pipilS^ 


AIB   0A8TLB    DON 


Now,  what  shall  I  do  with  him?  He  is  the  brightest  boy  in  his 
school,  and  as  trim  as  a  clipper  ship.  Wc  can't  afford  to  have 
him  wrecked  by  a  drunken  father  and  a  virago  of  a  step-moth- 
er." And  Father  Taylor  thumped  the  floor  so  vigorously 
while  he  was  speaking  that  the  boarders  in  the  flat  below  sup- 
posed that  the  boys  were  putting  down  a  new  carpet. 

"There  are  fifty  dollars  for  him,"  said  Don,  laying  the  crisp 
bill  in  Father  Taylor's  hand.  "A  lady  sent  it  to  me  this  morn- 
ing to  use  at  my  discretion ;  and  Bob's  hat  has  been  speaking 
to  me  all  day  about  it.  I  guess  the  Lord  had  Ladd  Chapin  in 
mind  when  he  turned  that  bill  in  Bob's  direction.  Ladd's 
mother  was  a  woman  after  the  Lord's  own  heart,  and  I  am  sure 
that  He  knows  enough  about  His  business  to  prevent  the  son 
of  such  a  mother  from  being  driven  to  the  dogs  when  he  could 
better  be  led  to  a  decent  life." 

"There  she  blows!"  exclaimed  Father  Taylor,  driving  his 
knuckles  into  his  eyes  in  lieu  of  a  handkerchief  to  brush  away 
his  tears  of  satisfaction,  while  his  swarthy  mobile  face,  so  nobly 
and  so  deeply  seamed  with  lines  of  thought,  switched  about  as 
if  angels  of  joy  were  pulling  at  the  strings  of  expression.  "I 
have  sighted  a  regular  sperm  whale  this  time,  and  no  mistake," 
he  continued,  in  Nantucket  whaleman  phraseology. 

"If  you  will  send  Ladd  to  Exeter  Academy  in  New  Hamp- 
shire," said  Don,  "where  he  will  be  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
father,  I  am  sure  that  the  lady  who  sent  that  fifty  dollars  will 
gladly  become  responsible  for  his  education,  seeing  that  he  is 
such  a  deserving  boy.  I  do  not  know  her  personally — not 
even  her  name,  but  Major  Vonberg  does,  and  he  assures  me 
that  she  is  as  benevolent  as  she  is  rich.  She  sent  word  that  she 
would  honor  any  demands  I  might  make  upon  her.  She  has 
great  faith  in  what  Bob  says  through  his  hat,  and  I  am  sure 


7 


H>l!#PWWi.l.¥J..v  m 


boy  in  his 
rd  to  have 
tep-moth- 
rigorously 
>elow  sup- 

l  the  crisp 

this  morn- 

I  speaking 

Chapin  in 

.    Ladd's 

I  am  sure 

:nt  the  son 

n  he  could 

driving  his 
>rush  away 
:e,  so  nobly 
ed  about  as 
ession.  "I 
0  mistake," 

few  Hamp- 
;ach  of  his 
dollars  will 
',  that  he  is 
)nally — not 
assures  me 
>rd  that  she 
-.  She  has 
I  am  sure 


AIB    GA8TLB    DON 


887 


that  he,  with  his  hand  upon  the  throttle  of  this  business,  would 
let  on  his  fullest  head  of  steam." 

"Of  course— of  course  I  What  spirit  engineer  wouldn't  l" 
exclaimed  Father  Taylor,  thumping  his  way  up  to  the  hat  and 
taking  it  down  and  trying  its  measure  on  his  own  capacious 
head  made  extra  formidable  by  its  heavy  shock  of  tumbled, 
dark  Abraham  Lincoln-like  hair.  "Why  his  head  was  bigger 
than  mine,"  he  continued,  as  the  hat  settled  quite  loosely  to  his 
eyebrows.  "The  brain  that  carried  that  hat  had  room  enough 
in  it  for  whales  to  swim  in ;  it  was  a  sea,  not  a  gudgeon  pond. 
Let  us  pray." 

And  with  the  hat  still  on  his  head,  the  absent-minded  man 
who  was  as  g^nd  as  a  cWtf  and  as  sweet  as  a  flower,  knelt,  and 
without  any  polite  prelimin.iries  of  supplication  poured  out  a 
prayer  for  Ladd  Chapin  that  was  so  briefly  to  the  point  and  so 
fervently  and  pathetically  pleading,  that  the  three  who  knelt 
with  him,  felt  as  if  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were  being 
broken  up. 

"There,"  he  said  as  he  arose  from  his  knees,  "I  know  it's 
all  right  for  Ladd,  so  I'll  square  away,  and  give  him  the  signal 
of  Land  ho!"  And  he  thumped  his  way  to  the  door  with  Bob 
Flanger's  hat  still  hanging  down  over  his  eyebrows  like  a 
shadowing  helmet  of  streng^th  from  the  invisible  world. 

"Excuse  me.  Father  Taylor,"  said  Don,  "but  you  mustn't 
take  Bob  away  from  us." 

"Well,  I  declare!"  he  exclaimed,  lifting  the  hat  from  his 
head  and  looking  at  it  with  twinkling  eyes.  "I  have  been 
caught  praying  with  three  pairs  of  spectacles  on  my  forehead, 
but  you  are  the  first  to  catch  ine  praying  with  a  hat  on.  The 
fact  is,  there  is  so  much  for  mc  to  do  in  this  world  that  I  cannot 
always  stop  to  see  whether  my  rigging  is  ship-shape  or  not. 
If  you  had  not  spoken  I  should  have  gone  straight  home  with 


.Ml 

m 


"Tf»~  ■»«•■»■»».•» 


mfd 


888 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


that  hat  on  my  head,  and  my  wife  and  daughters  would  have 
been  thrown  into  spasms.  They  would  have  made  more  fuss 
over  it  than  tlic  Lord  (hd  wliile  1  was  praying.  Tlic  Lord 
sectli  not  as  man  .seeth — nor  as  woman,  cither."  lie  placed 
the  hat  upon  its  peg  and  then  went  tliumping  down  tiie  stairs 
with  so  much  cahn  energy  that  the  boarders  peeped  from  their 
rooms  to  sec  what  liad  happened. 

"He  is  a  grand  old  fellow!"  exclaimed  Bert,  with  enthusi- 
asm. "That  Lovejoy's  D.  D.  ought  to  be  taken  away  from 
him  and  given  to  Father  Taylor." 

Tshaw!"  sniffed  Don,  contemptuously.  "Taking  the 
D.D.from  him  would  be  like  taking  the  clothes  from  Barnum's 
Living  Skeleton ;  and  giving  them  to  Father  Tayloi  would  be 
like  sticking  a  pair  of  goosc-quills  into  the  wings  of  the  Angel 
Gabr'el. 

"But  let's  get  to  work.  A  visit  from  such  a  man  as  he  is,  is 
like  a  breath  of  good  sea  air;  it  puts  life  and  energy  into  a 
fellow,  and  makes  him  fc'  like  fa!.ing  mountains  by  the  ears. 
Professor  Krasinski  v.'ill  be  lure  to-morrow  night,  and  our 
lessons  mu-t  be  recited  without  fault,  fnr  liis  cunrnendations 
Mi;  wotth  having." 

Nora  was  the  first  to  close  her  book.  Perhaps  this  was  due 
not  so  mucli  *o  th(  superior.' y  of  the  feminine  intel- 
lect as  to  the  fact  that  French  is  so  much  easier 
to  learn  than  Greek  and  Latin.  She  made  no  boasts  of 
being  in  advance  of  them,  yet  she  was  impatient  at  their  delay, 
for  she  was  anxious  to  free  iier  mind  concerning  Ladd's  griev- 
ances and  prospects.  He  was  her  schoolmate  and  she  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  good  reputation  he  bore  among  the 
teachers  and  his  school  companions. 

"Is  he  really  taken  from  that  drunken  father  of  i;is?  and  will 
he  really  be  sent  to  Exeter  Academy?"  she  anxiously  askec'. 

"Be  not  faithless,  but  believine;,"  said  Bert,  {-romptl;,,  lUm- 


P^r 


*>t. 


ivould  have 
:  more  fusa 
Tlic  Lord 
He  placed 
n  the  stairs 
1  from  their 

ith  enthusi- 
away  from 

ral<ing  the 
m  Barnum's 
ot  would  be 
af  the  Angel 

m  as  he  is,  is 
lergy  into  a 
by  the  ears, 
rht,  and  our 
irnendations 

this  was  due 
ninine  intcl- 
much  easier 
no  boasts  of 
It.  their  delay, 
Ladd's  griev- 

and  she  was 
re  among  the 

{ iiis?  and  will 
itsly  askec'. 
oniptl^,  tum- 


AIR    OABTLB    DON 


289 


ing  against  her  the  weapon  nhc  was  so  fund  of  using  against 
others.  As  soon  as  that  rich  lady  hears  that  Don  and  Bob 
I'langcr  and  Father  Taylor  are  pushing  him  uphill,  she'll  join 
in  the  push  with  all  her  might.  Don  said,  Exeter  Academy, 
and  that  settles  it.  But  won't  Father  Taylor  enjoy  showing 
that  fifty-dollar  bill  to  Ladd  and  telling  him  the  news.  I 
shouldn't  mind  being  a  minister  myself  if  I  could  pray  as  he 
prayed  here,  and  have  my  prayers  backed  up  as  his  are.  It 
would  be  better  than  being  either  rich  or  great.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  Don  finally  ended  in  a  white  chocker." 

"Father  Taylor  doesn't  wear  a  white  choker,"  said  Don, 
quietly.  "Neither  does  Theodore  Parker,  nor  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  nor  Starr  King,  nor  Henry  Ward  Beecher,"  he  con- 
tinuec;,  naming  some  of  the  eloquent  men  he  had  listened  to. 
"But  The  Reverend  John  Paul  Lovejoy,  D.  D.,  does,"  he 
added  after  a  pause  that  was  filled  with  bitter  recollections. 
"And  now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  never  saw  my  father 
wear  a  white  choker.  If  I  should  ever  get  into  the  pulpit,  I 
would  rather  have  the  whiteness  in  my  heart  than  around  my 
neck." 

"But  if  I  should  ever  marry  a  minister,"  said  Nora  posi- 
tively, "I'd  want  him  to  wear  a  white  tie;  it  looks  so  neat,  cool 
and  stylish,  you  know." 

"Of  course,"  interrupted  Bert,  sarcastically:  "the  females 
dote  on  the  white  choker,  and  I  guess  that's  the  principal 
reason  why  so  many  ministers  wear  them.  But  I'll  bet  you  a 
dollar  that  neither  Jesus  nor  the  Apostles  bothered  themselves 
about  white  chokers  and  shad-belly  coats  and  collars.  When 
a  minister  has  to  advertise  his  calling  by  his  clothes,  it's  a  sign 
that  he  should  join  the  circus  or  the  theater,  where  they  depend 
more  upon  advertisements  than  they  do  upon  the  Lord." 

"You  are  just  too  awful  for  anything,'  said  Nora,  gathering 
up  her  books  and  leaving  the  room  in  a  pout. 


f 


I 


i 


;^^|piiiWpilipi^ 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


IN  A  PRBDICAMEKT. 

Professor  Krasinski  was  a  naturalist,  but  not  of  the  kind 
that  is  satisfied  with  pressing  a  leaf  in  a  herbarium  and  giving 
it  a  big  name  in  a  learned  language.  If  he  happened  to  be 
under  apple  blossoms  in  spring  time,  he  would,  as  like  as  not, 
say  to  an  apple  twig:  "Look  here,  my  fine  little  fellow;  you 
look  very  gay  and  sweet  now,  but  very  soon  you'll  have  to  shed 
your  blossoms,  those  daintily  scented  and  beautifully  crimpled 
pink  gown?  and  white  petticoats,  and  begin  to  think  of  some- 
thing more  solid.  I  know  that  a  green,  fuzzy  little  apple  is  not 
near  so  pretty  as  a  blossom,  but  it's  a  deal  more  promising,  and 
the  blossom  that  isn't  willing  to  make  room  for  it  by  dropping 
out  of  the  way,  isn't  worth  the  blooming." 

In  this  same  manner  he  studied  boys  in  general,  and  Don 
in  particular,  watching  every  degree  of  development,  and  talk- 
ing his  thoughts  aloud  with  the  most  companionable  freedom 
and  sympathy.  He  saw  that  Don's  aims  were  becoming  sim- 
plified. The  boy's  mind  was  shedding  its  pink  and  white  petti- 
coats. It  was  rounding  out  into  the  shape  of  the  sphere — that 
simple  form  which  is  the  symbol  of  solidity  and  completeness. 

He  and  Don  had  been  conversing  about  The  Lady  of  The 
Lake  Gub,  and  it  pleased  him  amazingly  to  hear  Don  go  on, 
because  he  saw  that  the  boy  was  beginning  to  laugh  at  the 

(240) 


j^^  'STJMTi"viyr'-"."5y-T^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


*;■'  ^sv^*  *?"^  ^^i^T'v^-vv'i  T'-'''- ' 


241 


of  the  kind 
a  and  giving 
»pened  to  be 
s  like  as  not, 
;  fellow;  you 

have  to  shed 
ully  crimpled 
link  of  some- 
le  apple  is  not 
romising,  and 
t  by  dropping 

eral,  and  Don 
lent,  and  talk- 
nable  freedom 
jecoming  sim- 
nd  white  petti- 
le  sphere— that 
[  completeness. 
,e  Lady  of  The 
;ar  Don  go  on, 
o  laugh  at  the 


theatrical  clothes,  the  complicated  ceremonies,  the  tremendous 
titles  and  the  grandiloquent  speeches  of  the  secret  conclave 
that  used  to  meet  on  board  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake. 

To  make  his  laugh  all  the  merrier,  he  fell  in  with  his  mood 
and  said:  "Arnold  Doane,  your  Grand  Potentate,  must  have 
been  a  master  joker  as  well  as  a  master  of  ceremonies.  I  sup- 
pose he  was  trying  to  teach  you  how  to  make  fun  of  the  things 
that  deserve  to  be  ridiculed,  wise  old  boy  that  he  was.  Since 
my  arrival  in  this  country  I  have  joined  six  secret  societies,  for 
I  desired  to  learn  something  about  the  undercurrents  of  \mer- 
ican  life.  I  may  be  wrong  in  saying  it,  but  nevertheless  I  am 
of  the  opinion  that  several  of  the  societies  to  which  I  belong 
are  jokes,  native-born,  American  jokes.  The  robes  worn  and 
the  big  titles  assumed  are  doubtless  intended  to  pour  ridicule 
upon  the  dazzling  trumpery  of  old  world  monarchies.  It  is 
possible,  however,  as  I  will  admit,  that  they  may  also  be 
intended  to  ridicule  the  savagery  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants 
of  this  country — the  Heap-Big-Indian  with  his  Hole-In-The- 
Sky  name,  and  his  eagle  feathers,  his  red  and  yellow  paint 
decorations  and  all-night  scalp  and  ghost  dances.  If  they  are 
not  jokers,  they  must  have  a  hankering  after  old  world  splend- 
ors and  titles,  and  being  afraid  of  democratic  publicity,  meet 
in  secret  to  gjratify  their  hankerings. 

"But,  by  the  way,  what  became  of  your  juvenile  Grand 
Joker  and  his  Lady  of  The  Lake  Crew?  Are  they  still  playing 
Little  Bo-Peep  under  those  theatrical  clothes  and  big  titles, 
or  are  they  outgrowing  such  things?" 

"Doane  went  to  Australia  to  dig  for  gold,  and  the  other 
Grand  Fellows  are  doing  such  common  things  as  fishing,  .dig- 
ging potatoes,  chopping  logs,  carpentering  and  ship-building," 
Don  replied,  hardly  knowing  whether  to  laugh,  or  to  look 
ferious,    "I  was  Keyman  to  the  club,  and  I  am  now  keymat^ 


wmsm 


mm 


242 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


to  the  Vonberg  cash  box.  I  also  wore  the  cap  and  bells  at  the 
club,  and  for  aught  I  know  I  am  wearing  them  still." 

"Never  speak  lightly  of  the  common  callings  of  life,  my 
lad,"  said  Krasinski,  earnestly.  "Society  couldn't  stand  upon 
its  legs  for  a  moment  if  it  were  not  for  the  bones  of  the 
common  callings.  And  never  depreciate  yourself.  Self 
depreciation  is  the  mildew  of  ambition  and  endeavor,  and  the 
bane  of  all  success.  It  is  not  humility  but  only  the  mockery 
of  it.  How  about  that  boy  you  have  recently  taken  in 
charge?" 

"Ladd  Chapin  is  not  in  my  charge,"  said  Don.  "I  received  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Lydia  Godwin  requesting  me  to  take  him  to 
her.  She  proved  to  be  the  lady  who  sent  me  fifty  dollars  to  be 
disposed  of  at  my  discretion.  Being  a  rich  widow  without 
children,  she  has  adopted  Ladd  and  will  educate  him.  But 
although  Mrs.  Godwin  is  doing  so  well  by  Ladd,  she  is  getting 
me  into  a  sea  of  trouble." 

"What  kind  of  trouble?"  asked  the  professor,  solicitously. 

"Tract  trouble.  She  has  laid  out  Salem  street,  and  the 
streets  adjoining,  into  a  tract  district  and  wants  me  to  become 
her  tract  distributor.  I  told  her  I  had  no  more  piety  than  a 
cat.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  my  protestations,  she  insisted, 
and  here  I  am  with  five  hundred  tracts  on  my  hand  which  I 
have  promised  to  distribute.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that 
for  an  adventure?  I  am  to  begin  next  Sunday  by  giving  away 
one  hundred." 

"But  you  could  have  declined,"  said  K-asinski,  smiling  in 
spite  of  his  courtesy. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  might,  could,  would  or  should  have 
declined,  but  for  all  that,  I  didn't,  you  see.  She  had  been  so 
nobly  generous  to  Ladd,  I  thought  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  do 
something  for  her.    But  one  should  have  a  face  and  a  voice  to 


d  bells  at  the 
11." 

;s  of  life,  my 
't  stand  upon 
bones  of  the 
'ourself.  Self 
;avor,  and  the 
the  mockery 
itly  taken  in 

,.  "I  received  a 
o  take  him  to 
:y  dollars  to  be 
vidow  without 
;ate  him.  But 
[,  she  is  getting 

or,  solicitously, 
street,  and  the 
s  me  to  become 
ire  piety  than  a 
IS,  she  insisted, 
y  hand  which  I 
ou  think  of  that 
by  giving  away 

inski,  smiling  in 

or  should  have 
She  had  been  so 
,  be  willing  to  do 
ce  and  a  voice  to 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


243 


fit  the  tracts.  I  l-?»ve  been  looking  over  some  of  them,  and  the 
more  I  examine  them,  the  more  ridiculous  I  feel.  If  anyone 
should  take  one  of  those  tracts  and  begin  to  converse  about  the 
contents,  there  would  be  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  run  for 
it.  Let  me  try  a  dozeiT  of  them  on  you,  professor,  by  way  of 
getting  my  hand  in.  You  can  at  least  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  them."  And  Don  opened  one  of  the  packages  and  gave 
Krasinski  an  even  dozen. 

The  professor  received  them  as  gingerly  as  if  he  were 
handling  torpedoes.  He  was  not  used  to  this  kind  of  spiritual 
ammunition.  Still,  as  in  courtesy  bound,  he  began  to  look 
them  over,  but,  as  must  be  confessed,  with  the  eye  of  a  critic 
instead  of  the  submission  of  one  who  takes  everything  for 
granted  that  passes  under  the  name  of  religion.  It  required 
no  great  insight  to  discern  that  some  of  the  leaflets  were  very 
good  indeed,  but  that  others  of  them  were  crude,  if  not  coarse, 
and  unimpressive  if  not  positively  ludicrous  in  their  exaggera- 
tions. He  rubbed  his  chin,  scratched  his  head,  and  moved 
uneasily  in  his  chair.  He  was  able  to  speak  in  seven 
languages,  but  in  the  present  instance  was  at  a  loss  to  express 
himself  in  any. 

"Did  Mrs.  God  vin  really  give  you  five  hundred  of  these 
tracts  to  distribute  promiscuo  ly?"  he  asked,  finessing  for 
time,  in  the  hope  that  he  shoula  soon  find  words  adequate  to 
the  emergency. 

"Yes;  five  packages,  one  hundred  in  each  package,  as  you 
can  see  for  yourself,"  said  Don,  smiling,  and  placing  the  pack- 
ages in  a  heap  on  one  of  the  professor's  knees.  "And  that  is 
not  the  worst  of  it,"  he  added,  as  Krasinski  carefully  returned 
the  toppling  pile  to  the  table. 

"What  worse  thing  could  a  good  woman  do?"  asked  the 


f?'.- 


if- 


r": 


2i4 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


professor,  in  an  almost  tragic  manner,  and  bending  forward  so 
as  to  meet  the  anr  ver  iialf  way. 

"She  is  a  member  of  the  Salem  Street  Congregational 
Church,  of  which  Doctor  Edward  Beccher  is  the  pastor.  She 
gave  me  a  note  ot  introduction  to  him,  and  would  not  let  me 
leave  the  house  until  I  promised  to  go  to  him  for  further 
instructions  about  this  tract  business.  Think  of  jaeing  sent  to 
beard  such  a  lion  as  that  in  his  own  den !  Perhaps  she  has  sent 
me  there  to  be  converted,  when  the  fact  is,  I  don't  want  to  be 
converted — at  least — not  by  any  doctor  of  divinity." 

At  the  mention  of  Doctor  Beecher,  Krasinski  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  was  too  much  of  a  gentle- 
man to  make  light  of  sacred  things,  but  as  Don  went  on  he  had 
to  bite  his  lips  to  prevent  his  mirth  from  getting  the  mastery  of 
his  breeding. 

"I  will  go  to  the  doctor  with  you,"  he  said,  as  gravely  as 
he  could  under  the  circumstances. 

Don  clapped  his  hands  with  delight,  and  exclaimed: 
"With  you  to  back  me,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  meet  a  dozen 
D.  D.s." 

"The  doctor  is  taking  Hungarian  lessons  of  me,"  continued 
the  professor.  "I  have  an  appointment  with  him  this  evening, 
and  you  can  go  down  with  me.  You  may  dismiss  all  fear  of 
embarrassment  in  his  presence.  We  are  friends,  and  the  fact 
that  your  pious  Mrs.  Godwin  sends  you  to  him  gives  me  a 
good  opinion  of  her  discretion.  There  is  method  in  her  mad- 
ness, and,  as  I  begin  to  suspect,  something  that  is  better  than 
method,  even.  It  would  do  you  no  harm  if  you  were  to  meet 
the  whole  Beecher  family." 

"The  whole  Beecher  family!"  exclaimed  Don,  appalled  by 
the  mere  mention  of  such  a  thing.     "Why  there  are  eleven  of 


■srjjiMirijsBH^: 


^l<a^||f|wp^ip'j>|#^  P'l 


p.ti;^*g;yif%!'i'jj 


g  lorward  so 

ngregational 
pastor.  She 
Id  not  let  me 

for  further 
being  sent  to 

she  has  sent 
I't  want  to  be 

leaned  back 
ch  of  a  gentle- 
?ent  on  he  had 
the  niastery  of 

,  as  gravely  as 

nd  exclaimed: 
)  meet  a  dozen 

me,'*  continued 
m  this  evening, 
miss  all  fear  of 
ds,  and  the  fact 
lim  gives  me  a ' 
lod  in  her  mad- 
at  is  better  than 
3U  were  to  meet 

)on,  appalled  by 
;re  are  eleven  of 


AIR   OASTLB    DON 

them,    including    Doctor    Lyman    Beecher,    the    father 
them  all." 

"Yes,  I  know  it ;  and  I  heard  the  grand  old  patriarch  of  the 
tribe  preach  at  Cambridge  last  Sunday.  They  make  a  bright 
galaxy.  T  wish  there  were  more  such  stars  in  the  American 
firmament.  Their  light  reached  me  even  in  Hungary.  Since 
arriving  here,  I  have  become  personally  acquainted  with  six  of 
the  family,  and  I  am  charmed  with  every  one  of  them,  but  with 
none  more  tlian  with  Edward,  the  Salem  Street  pastor,  who 
puts  me  more  and  more  in  love  with  American  institutions  and 
people." 

"I  will  consent  to  go  there  with  you  to-night  if  you  think 
that  he  will  help  me  out  of  this  tract  predicament,"  said  Don, 
yielding  to  the  professor's  enthusiasm. 

The  doctor  lived  on  one  of  the  short  streets  leading  out  of 
Salem  street.  He  received  his  visitors  very  cordially  and  con- 
ducted them  into  his  study,  which  was  such  a  wilderness  of 
books  and  such  a  chaos  of  papers  and  odds  and  ends  of  every 
description,  it  was  quite  difficult  to  find  a  place  to  sit  down. 

"They  say  that  confusion  is  a  sign  of  genius,"  said  the 
doctor  laughingly,  "but  I  can  assure  you  there  is  no  genius 
here,  unless  you  have  brought  one  with  you."  And  he  glanced 
smilingly  at  Krasinski,  and  from  him  to  Don,  who  colored  like 
a  school  girl,  yet  could  not  help  smiling  back  at  him. 

"I  am  afraid  that  your  Conflict  of  Ages  is  the  cause  of  the 
confusion  in  your  study,"  said  Krasinski;  and  then  turning  to 
Don,  he  went  on  to  say  with  a  freedom  that  showed  the  terms 
he  was  on  with  the  doctor:  "Every  Beecher  has  a  hobby,  and 
the  doctor's  hobby  is  that  we  lived  in  another  world  before  we 
arrived  in  this,  and  that  we  are  permitted  to  come  that  we  may 
have  a  chance  to  correct  the  blunders  we  made  before  we  came 
here.     He  calls  his  book  The  Conflict  of  Ages,  and  I  believe 


■tidtfl 


ff  I  nyyiianiinii 


■-j-y 


■^11     lljl    Ijl  .  III!  Rl 


"TIT" 


■I"  t.'rr 


246 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


r>" 


I* 


he  is  writing  it  to  see  how  effectually  he  can  get  up  a  conflict 
among  the  ministers.  By  the  time  his  feilow  clergymen  are 
done  with  his  book  there  will  be  nothing  but  the  covers  left. 
He  has  read  chapters  of  it  to  me,  and  I'm  inclined  to  think  that 
if  these  were  Puritan  times  we'd  see  the  doctor  going  up  in 
^moke  some  dry  burning  day.  He  is  a  heretic,  if  there  ever 
was  one,  but  heresy  is  popular,  and  I  suspect  that  the  doctor  is 
as  fond  of  popularity  as  any  of  us." 

"But  if  he  gets  the  ministers  down  on  him,  how  can  he 
become  popular?"  asked  Don  in  the  innocence  of  his  soul. 

"Why,  bless  you,  boy !  Don't  you  know  that  the  man  who 
is  unpopular  with  the  ministers,  is  the  man  who  becomes  pop- 
ular with  the  public?"  said  Krasinski,  more  than  half  seriously. 

"You  must  not  mind  what  the  professor  says,"  remarked 
the  doctor  somewhat  gravely. 

"No,"  assented  Krasinski,  and  then  added  apologetically, 
"I  have  a  pernicious  habit  of  trying  to  make  truth  go  further 
by  dressing  it  in  clothes  that  do  not  belong  to  it.  And,  to  use 
a  Yankee  expression,  'I  rather  guess'  I  have  contracted  the 
habit  since  I  came  to  America." 

The  doctor  laughed  heartily  at  the  remark,  and  then  went 
on  to  engage  Don  in  conversation  about  some  of  his  personal 
experiences  of  which  he  had  read  so  much  in  the  papers. 
Imperceptibly  he  approached  the  object  of  Don's  visit.  Evi- 
dently Mrs.  Godwin,  under  cover  of  tract  work,  desired  to  send 
Don  upon  a  sort  of  still  hunt  after  the  worthy  poor  and  desti- 
tute of  the  district.  She  had  great  confidence  in  his  insighv 
and  discretion,  which  she  thought  had  been  developed  in  a 
remarkable  way  by  !;is  own  painful  experiences.  She  pro- 
posed to  have  words  and  deeds  walk  together.  Doctor 
Beecher  underctoOii  her  and  had  an  enthusiastic  admiration  for 
her  benevolence  and  wisdom.    And  such  was  the  effect  of  his 


^^ita.i^^ip  4a.'if:.!:f  *.yjB» 


»jiipjit»ifiv'^'gi»!uwjw»'»si'fii<w*yj>'q»ii'i«^ 


mmrmfififmfim 


up  a  conflict 
ergymen  are 
e  covers  left, 
to  think  that 
going  up  in 
if  there  ever 
the  doctor  is 

how  can  he 
:  his  soul, 
the  man  who 
becomes  pop- 
half  seriously, 
rs,"  remarked 

ipologetically, 

ith  go  further 

And,  to  use 

lontracted  the 

ind  then  went 
>f  his  personal 
n  the  papers. 
I's  visit.  Evi- 
lesired  to  send 
oor  and  desti- 
in  his  insight 
leveloped  in  a 
;es.  She  pro- 
:ther.  Doctor 
admiration  for 
tie  effect  of  his 


AIB    0A8TLB    DON 


247 


representations  upon  Don  that  his  objections  to  the  tract 
business  vanished. 

"If  that  be  her  object,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "I'll  take  five 
hundred  more  of  those  iiacts,  and  agree  to  get  rid  of  every  one 
of  them." 

The  doctor  continuing,  said:  "Mrs.  Godwin  thinks  she 
has  such  an  awkward  way  of  putting  things,  that  the  best 
course  for  her  to  pursue  was  to  send  you  to  me  for  explana- 
tions. She  has  a  good  deal  more  confidence  in  me  than  I  have 
in  myself." 

"I  am  glad  I  came,  for  I  have  discovered  that  she  is  a  jewel 
of  a  woman,  and  that  you  are  a  jewel  of  a  preacher,"  said  Don, 
impulsively. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  me  preach?"  asked  the  doctor,  drawing 
his  face  down. 

"No;  but  I'll  come  the  first  ch?nce  I  get." 

"Better  not,  my  boy;  I  am  as  dry  as  a  broomstick." 

"Well,  I  like  broomsticks  that  have  good  sweepers  at  the 
end  of  them,  especially  when  they  get  into  the  pulpit,  where, 
according  to  my  notions,  there  is  a  grand  chance  for  pulling 
down  cobwebs  and  getting  rid  of  dust."  ' 

The  doctor  glanced  at  Don  very  gravely  for  a  moment,  and 
heaved  a  sigh,  for  cobweb"?  and  dust,  however  sacred  they 
might  appear,  were  his  particular  aversion,  and  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  had  been  spent  in  contending  with  them.  But  he 
thought  it  a  strange  coincidence  that  a  mere  boy  should  put  the 
truth  so  patly. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  professor?"  he  asked,  turning 
to  Krasinski,  with  a  touch  of  pathos  in  his  voice. 

"Don't  urge  an  answer,"  Krasii:>ki  replied  evasively.  "I 
am  taking  lessons  that  I  must  learn  before  I  shall  be  prepared 


1  ti 


iimlm 


sasfessA:- 


„.  .i»,ii-jii:.i;„  ..,i&ii&yftsiMjSlii..i 


248 


AtB   0A8TLB    DON 


to  recite  them.  Please  go  on  as  if  I  were  not  here,  or  I  shall 
feel  as  if  I  were  intruding." 

"Intruding!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  deprecatingly.  "Never 
Use  that  word  in  connection  with  yourself  again.  You  are  one 
of  the  best  brooms  that  ever  came  into  this  study.  Cobwebs 
and  dust  recognize  their  deadliest  foe  whenever  they  see  you. 
After  your  visits  I  am  twice  the  broom  I  was  before  you  came. 

"But  I  have  something  else  to  say  to  your  young  friend. 
Mrs.  Godwin  has  been  the  means  of  sending  five  promising 
ministers  into  the  pulpit.  She  wishes,  as  she  said  to  me,  if 
possible,  to  make  the  number  a  round  half  dozen."  And 
addressing  Don  directly,  he  continued:  "She  hopes  that,  by 
getting  you  engaged  in  the  work  she  has  laid  out  for  you  in  her 
district,  you  will  become  her  sixth  preacher.  She  instructs  me 
to  say  to  you  that  if  you  will  consider  the  matter,  she  will  sup- 
port you  through  college  and  through  a  seminary  course." 

Don  blushed  to  the  top  of  his  forehead  at  the  bare  thought 
of  ever  entering  a  pulpit.  There  was  a  long  pause,  during 
which  the  good  doctor  rejoiced  in  his  heart,  for  he  thought  it 
th?  prelude  of  consent^  and  acceptance. 

"May  I  speak  my  mind  freely?"  asked  Don,  with  deep 
embarrassment. 

"Certainly !  What  else  are  we  here  for,  if  not  for  free  and 
honest  speaking?"  said  the  doctor  forcibly. 

"Mrs.  Godwin  must  be  a  very  noble  woman,"  Don  began, 
"and  I  am  profoundly  thankful  to  her  for  the  interest  she  takes 
in  me,  and  for  the  generous  and  lofty  plans  she  is  forming  for 
my  future  usefulness.  But  she  is  entirely  astray  in  her  selec- 
tion. Ministers  should  be  selected  from  the  flower  of  man- 
kind. I  have  neither  the  piety  nor  the  ability  for  the  work  she 
proposes." 


.M^f^juwt*'-*v,.^^.y;iwi^pi,fiyw!;s<^.!t^'.«^ 


AIR   GA8TLB    DON 


24fi 


ere,  or  I  shall 

ngly.    "Never 
You  are  one 
idy.    Cobwebs 
•  they  see  you. 
fore  you  came. 
'  young  friend, 
five  promising 
said  to  me,  if 
dozen."    And 
hopes  that,  by 
It  for  you  in  her 
)he  instructs  me 
er,  she  will  sup- 
lary  course." 
he  bare  thought 
g  pause,  during 
or  he  thought  it 

Don,  with  deep 

not  for  free  and 

an,"  Don  began, 
interest  she  takes 
he  is  forming  for 
tray  in  her  selec- 
e  flower  of  man- 
for  the  work  she 


'The  bud  that  is  enclosed  in  humility  has  great  possibilities 
in  it,"  said  the  doctor,  encouragingly. 

"There  are  already  two  ministers  in  our  family,"  Don  con- 
tinued, "and  others  of  the  boys  seem  to  have  inclinations  that 
run  in  the  same  direction.  Even  if  I  felt  like  becoming  a 
preacher,  I  should  be  suspicious  of  the  feeling,  because  I  think 
it  runs  in  the  family  blood." 

"There  are  seven  ministers  in  the  Beecher  family,"  inter- 
rupted the  doctor.  "And  if  our  three  girls  had  been  born  boys, 
doubtless  they  also  would  have  gone  into  the  pulpit.  As  it  is, 
it  is  pretty  hard  to  keep  them  out  of  it.  You  have  hit  a  good- 
sized  nail  squarely  on  the  head  when  you  speak  of  blood  ten- 
dencies leading  to  intrusions  into  the  pulpit." 

And  while  he  paused,  as  if  in  deep  thought,  Don  began 
again  where  the  doctor  had  interrupted  him.  "From  what  I 
have  seen  of  ministers,"  he  said,  "three-fourths  of  them  appear 
to  be  mere  broadcloth  tramps  driven  around  from  pillar  to  post 
at  the  beck  and  bid  of  the  worst  and  meanest  members  in  the 
churches.    And  I  have  had  enough  of  tramp-life  already." 

"There  goes  another  nail!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  who  was 
too  honest  to  send  truth  to  the  shambles. 

"Besides,"  continued  Don,  growing  more  and  more  earn- 
est as  he  went  on,  "if  I  were  desirous  of  entering  the  ministry, 
I  would  never  allow  other  people  to  pay  my  way  in.  If  I 
could  not  pay  my  own  expenses,  I'd  give  the  pulpit  a  wide 
berth.  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that  there  is  too  much 
drumming  for  pulpit  students,  and  that  too  many  of  those  who 
are  drummed  into  the  schools  and  seminaries  are  altogether 
too  willing  to  have  their  way  paid  by  other  people." 

"Your  father  must  be  a  wise  man,"  remarked  Doctor 
Beecher,  "but  even  the  wisest  of  men  sometimes  take  extreme 


7 


t 


sm^am 


260 


mim 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


views  of  things;  and  when  the  fathers  eat  unripe  grapes,  the 
children's  teeth  are  apt  to  be  set  on  edge.  But  it  is  evident 
that  your  convictions  are  not  to  be  blown  away  by  a  mere 
breath  of  wind.  I  am  free  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  better  to 
be  footfast  than  headlong." 

Thinking  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  end  his  call,  Don,  after 
thanking  thi'  doctor  for  his  interest  in  him,  began  to  pick  his 
way  through  the  piles  of  books  that,  owing  to  the  overflowing 
of  the  shelves,  were  stacked  upon  the  floor.  In  spite  of  his 
care,  he  upset  two  tall  piles  that  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  great 
noise.  His  apology  for  his  awkwardness  was  interrupted  by 
the  good  nature  of  the  doctor,  who  laughingly  said : 

"Never  mind  the  books.  It's  only  the  Apostolical  Fathers 
and  a  lot  of  the  commi  tors  that  you  have  upset.  In  one 
way  and  another  t  ncy  have  been  upset  no  maay  times  that  they 
must  be  quit**  used  to  it  by  this  time.  T  presume  that  the 
authors  of  some  of  them,  having  learned  wisdom  in  Heaven 
since  their  decease,  would  not  be  sorry  if  they  were  upset  for 
good." 

"With  so  many  books  around  you,  you  must  be  a  very  wise 
man,"  said  Don,  diffidently. 

"One  may  have  many  books  and  yet  be  wanting  in  wis- 
dom," was  the  frank  reply.  "I  sometimes  think  that  I  am 
only  what  Pope  calls 

'A  bookish  blockhead  ignorantiy  read, 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head'." 

"Just  before  coming  here,"  replied  Don,  "the  professor 
gave  me  a  short  lecture  on  the  evils  of  self  depreciation ;  I  hope 
that  he  will  repeat  it  to  you  after  I  leave," 


Jiu^a^-^'^'^'''' 


c  grapes,  the 
:  it  is  evident 
ly  by  a  mere 
it  is  better  to 

all,  Don,  after 
an  to  pick  his 
le  overflowing 
n  spite  of  his 
r  with  a  great 
interrupted  by 
said: 

tolical  Fathers 
jpset.  In  one 
times  that  they 
sume  that  the 
om  in  Heaven 
were  upset  for 

L  be  a  very  wise 

vanting  in  wis- 
link  that  I  am 


d, 
head'." 

"the  professor 
■eciation;  I  hope 


''  ■    «'■ 


CHAl  TER   XXV. 


KBBPINO   A  CONTRACT     V       '  y  " '^ 

One  wintry  Sunday  morning  Don  awoke  to  find  January  in 
his  room  claiming  a  welcome  on  the  ground  of  having  just 
arrived  from  Nova  Scotia.  1 1  is  approaches  were  resented  and 
an  eflfort  was  made  to  drive  him  out  by  kindling  a  fire  under  his 
very  nose.  Scratching  a  hole  through  the  thick  frost  upon 
the  window,  Don  saw  a  few  of  the  taller  ,himneys  trying  to 
keep  their  mouths  above  the  billows  of  a  great  white  sea  in 
which  the  lower  ones  had  been  completely  submerged.  Where 
the  roofs  of  the  buildings  had  been  accustomed  to  show  them- 
selves there  was  nothing  but  wave  on  wave  of  silent  crystals. 

Boston  had  capitulated  to  a  New  England  snowstorm  of 
nearly  four  days  duration.  The  very  boys  had  cried  for 
quarter  and  on  Saturday  had  carried  their  sleds  to  the  base- 
ments knowing  that  even  Boston  Common  was  unavailable  for 
coasting. 

The  entrances  to  the  city  were  hermetically  sealed.  The 
snow  in  tlie  streets  was  piled  to  the  level  of  the  lower  window 
sills,  and  the  isolated  vehicles  on  runners  that  ventured  abroad 
showed  such  a  strong  tendency  to  tumble  upon  the  sidewalks 
that  pedestrians  were  few  and  far  between. 

The  trees  of  the  Common  and  the  cemeteries  cracked 
beneath  their  burdens,  while  the  streets  resounded  with  the 
noise  of  avalanches  descending  from  the  roofs. 

The  wind  blew  in  terrific  gusts,  condensing  the  snowflakes 

(251) 


ttHk:msnk^''iii.«W''jli^itnj<»-  ^'^^jXt-:^^^ 


^law 


wmmm 


262 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


I 

i 


^- 


L 

It. 


4. 


~f  ... 


so  compactly  that  they  smote  tike  particles  of  flint  and  rasped 
the  exposed  surfaces  of  the  building  like  sandpaper.  The  cold 
crept  into  the  houses  with  such  insidious  persistency  that  even 
living  coals  failed  to  emit  heat  sufficient  to  withstand  it. 

The  hands  of  all  the  city  clocks  were  frozen  to  their  faces, 
and  city  time  was  as  silent  as  the  great  wooden  watches  that 
marked  where  the  time  regulators  wrought.  Sextons,  minis- 
ters and  congregations  were  unanimous  in  their  convictions 
for  once,  and  not  a  single  bell  pealed  the  loud  call  to  the  usual 
denominational  rendezvous.  Nature  had  given  the  signal  to 
the  churches  that  for  that  day  at  least  she  intended  to  have  the 
monopoly  of  singing  and  preaching,  notwithstanding  her  voice 
was  so  untuneful  and  unwelcome. 

The  city  was  a  whited  sepulchre  in  which  for  the  time  being 
the  people  were  buried  alive.  Thomson  and  Whittier  have 
sung  the  poetic  beauties  of  the  snowstorm  in  the  country,  but 
on  the  Sunday  we  commemorate,  two  hundred  thousand  peo- 
ple, more  or  less,  bitterly  complained  of  the  prosaic  inconven- 
iences of  a  snowstorm  in  the  city. 

After  breakfast  Bert,  chilled  to  the  bones  and  discontented 
to  the  soul,  and  covered  with  a  quilt  in  addition  to  the  warmest 
garments  he  could  clothe  himself  in,  went  into  Don's  room  and 
seated  himself  as  near  to  the  stove  as  he  could  get  with  safety. 

"Ever  see  anything  like  this  down  in  old  Acadia?"  he  asked 
in  a  challenging  way. 

"No,  I  never  did,"  said  Don  with  proud  concession. 
"Nova  Scotia  is  so  nearly  surrounded  with  water  that  weather 
like  this  is  next  to  impossible." 

"Boston  is  nearly  surrounded  by  water,  too,  but  that 
doesn't  seem  to  make  any  difference  with  the  weather,"  Bert 
retorted. 

"There  is  so  little  of  it  that  it  freezes  up  with  everything 


mmmmmm 


flint  and  raspe(!| 
per.  The  cold 
tcncy  that  even 
<tund  it. 

n  to  their  faces, 
en  watches  that 
Sextons,  minis- 
icir  convictions 
call  to  the  usual 
en  the  signal  to 
ided  to  have  the 
anding  her  voice 

3r  the  time  being 
d  Whittier  have 
the  country,  but 
ed  thousand  peo- 
)rosaic  inconvcn- 

and  discontented 
»n  to  the  warmest 
>  Don's  room  and 
d  get  with  safety. 
Acadia?"  he  asked 

roud  concession, 
rater  that  weather 

jr,  too,  but  that 
le  weather,"  Bert 

)  with  everything 


."'I    ".i-i<i!'jyf!! 


AIB    OASTLB    DON 


268 


elrc,  while  the  arms  of  the  sea  that  surround  Nova  Scotia  arc 
so  big  and  warm  they  never  freeze,"  said  Don,  "and  that  is  why 
the  atmosphere  there  never  becomes  like  the  congealing  stuff 
wc  arc  having  here." 

"1  wciity-sevcn  degrees  below  zero,"  groaned  Bert,  "and 
making  a  la-adcr  for  a  still  deeper  plunge.  The  mercury  will 
burst  the  In  lb  next  thing  wc  know  and  start  South  for  a 
warmer  country.  We'll  have  lively  times  at  the  store 
to-moTow  doing  nothing  but  trying  to  keep  our  shins  warm. 
But  say,  old  fellow,  what  in  time  arc  you  trying  to  do?" 

Don  had  all  the  while  been  covering  himself  with  a  succes- 
sion of  garments.  He  now  stood  before  Bert  cased  in  a  heavy 
overcoat  with  the  fur  collar  turned  up  his  neck,  and  a  fur  cap 
with  earlets  dropped  to  meet  the  collar.  Bert  was  wrapped  up 
like  a  mummy  to  make  himself  proof  against  the  cold,  and  he 
supposed  that  Don  was  imitating  his  example  preparatory  to 
chumming  with  him  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stove.  But  when,  in 
addition  to  gloving  his  hnnds,  Don  stuffed  into  his  pocket 
tracts  enough  to  physic  a  hundred  sinners,  Bert's  surprise 
knew  no  bounds,  and  he  again  vented  his  emotions  by  a  snap- 
shot question. 

"I  promised  to  visit  some  of  the  back  streets  of  my  district 
to-day,"  Don  said,  smiling  at  Bert's  almost  querulous  manner, 
"and  promises  should  not  be  made  unless  there  is  an  intention 
to  keep  them." 

"This  is  downright  madness  1  Why,  the  angels  themselves 
would  be  excused  from  'hovering  around'  on  such  a  day  as 
this!" 

"Possibly;  but  I  am  not  an  angel,  and  I  shall  have  small 
prospects  of  becoming  one  if  I  disappoint  so  good  a  woman  as 
Mrs.  Godwin." 

"She  will  put  you  down  for  a  goose  instead  of  an  angel  i{ 


msmmmdmmatt 


254 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


$ 


she  hears  that  you  have  been  out  in  this  Siberian  temperature." 

"I  think  not.  She  has  money  for  the  needy,  who  in  such 
weather  as  this  may  be  in  their  sorest  trouble.  So  long  as  she 
is  ready  to  give,  I  am  ready  to  be  her  hand.  Besides,  I'll 
venture  to  say  that  Bob  Flanger  never  let  a  snowstorm  or  a 
cold  wind  keep  him  from  the  rail  when  it  was  his  turn  to  be 
on  it." 

He  looked  up  at  Bob's  old  hat  so  reverently  that  Bert 
became  ashamed  of  himself  and  said:  "You  are  right,  Don; 
and  if  I  had  a  drop  of  decent  blood  in  my  veins,  or  a  single 
grain  of  heroism  in  my  nature,  I'd  trail  after  you  like  a  dog 
after  his  master." 

"Where  one  is  enough,  two  would  be  embarrassing.  You 
can  stay  at  home  with  a  good  conscience.  But  if  I  were  in 
your  place,  I'd  look  out  for  the  little  mother  as  much  as 
possible,  and  see  that  the  fires  are  kept  going  for  her.  And  if 
you  were  to  encourage  the  boarders  to  patronize  the  coal  bin 
to-day,  they'd  think  none  the  less  of  you  for  it.  It  would  warm 
their  hearts,  and  that  goes  far  toward  warming  the  body.  I 
happen  to  know  that  you  three  are  popular  with  the  boarders 
because  they  believe  that  you  consider  their  comfort  as  well 
as  their  pockets;  that  is  a  reputation  worth  keeping  np.  I  am 
happier  in  my  attic  with  you  than  I  could  possibly  be  in  a 
parlor  with  some  people  I  know." 

Nora,  finding  that  the  lower  part  of  the  house  seemed  like 
the  interior  of  an  iceberg,  called  for  Bert  jusi  hs  Don  was 
starting  out.  She  was  surprised  to  see  Don  armed  cap-a-pie 
for  a  battle  with  the  elements,  but  on  being  informed  of  his 
errand,  v/as  effusive  in  her  pious  commendations,  especially  of 
the  tract  part  of  his  mission. 

"You  will  be  sure  to  catch  people  at  home,"  she  said,  "and 


1:' 


y«tA|;y'jgJi|t?wtWI-{|^!;^yJVW' ' 


'WywWlft^y''?■|^'W^.'^■qp|p?wwv'^l|^^^ww.^wl^J».!;;rw■l^^.^.'^^ 


temperature." 
,  who  in  such 
50  long  as  she 
Besides,  I'll 
owstorm  or  a 
liis  turn  to  be 

itly  that  Bert 
e  right,  Don; 
IS,  or  a  single 
ou  like  a  dog 

rassing.  You 
It  if  I  were  in 
r  as  much  as 
r  her.  And  if 
:e  the  coal  bin 
[t  would  warm 
f  the  body.  I 
li  the  boarders 
amfort  as  well 
ling  up.  I  am 
ssibly  be  in  a 

se  seemed  like 
;  IS  Don  was 
rmed  cap-a-pie 
iformed  of  his 
IS,  especially  of 

she  said,  "and 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


256 


it  will  give  you  such  a  good  chance  to  talk  to  them  about  their 
souls." 

"Their  souls  I"  Don  exclaimed,  slightly  impatient.  "Those 
who  do  not  know  how  to  handle  a  gun  are  not  apt  to  go  hunt- 
ing fi  r  big  game.  I  know  no  more  about  shooting  for  souls 
than  I  do  about  hunting  for  elephants.  Do  you  take  me  for  a 
Father  Taylor  or  a  Doctor  Beecher?  I'm  willing  to  scatter 
the  tracts,  but  I  wouldn't  touch  them  with  a  ten  foot  pole  if 
this  business  were  to  end  with  them.  When  Bob  Flanger  and 
Jake  Cullum  took  me  in  among  the  roundhouse  saints,  they 
didn't  say  anything  about  my  soul,  yet  when  they  went  to  work 
on  my  body,  they  touched  the  knocker  of  the  front  door  of  my 
soul.    That's  what  I  aim  and  hope  to  do  by  going  out  to-day." 

Don  escaped  as  soon  as  he  could,  and  Nora  went  in  and 
sat  down  with  Bert,  who,  with  a  broad  smile,  said:  "Mrs. 
Godwin  and  Doctor  Beecher  combined  can't  get  Don  into  the 
pulpit." 

Nora  thought  the  pulpit  the  summit  of  all  attainment. 
Her  imagination  kindled  at  the  bare  idea  of  seeing  Don  cleri- 
cally clad,  even  to  the  white  tie,  swinging  his  urms  in  all  the 
glory  of  sacred  gesticulation  and  rolling  out  sentences  in  all 
the  unctuousness  of  pious  speech  and  intonation.  She 
thought  it  would  be  just  lovely  to  see  him  take  his  seat  upon 
a  pulpit  sofa,  or  chair,  and  put  his  right  elbow  in  his  left  hand 
and  his  right  hand  over  his  eyes  with  all  the  solemnity  of  min- 
isterial dignity.  Bert's  declaration  that  Don  would  never  go 
into  the  pulpit  excited  her  indignation  to  such  an  extent  that 
she  roundly  rebuked  him  for  his  liardness  of  heart  and  levity 
of  speech. 

But  out  of  this  hillside  of  conviction  and  from  among  the 
green  herbage  of  religious  sentiment  so  strongly  predominant 
in  Nora's  marked  character,  came  a  pure  purling  spring  of 


.<*j 

HT 


i 


'% '' ji- wj  ■.■»i'y»  f'.'?  ''Wi^.^y  '*  .'*jlJB?!'-'  '"^■^*y^'''^.r?^ 


256 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


maiden  partiality  for  Don.  It  flowed  so  transparently  and 
openly  that  Bert  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  it.  Nora 
loved  Don  to  a  degree  which  startled  her  brother,  and  forth- 
wi'Ji  he  resolved  upon  giving  her  something  in  return  for  what 
she  had  just  given  him. 

So  he  gave  her  a  good  round  lecture  on  Donology,  the  gist 
of  which  v.'as  that  no  girl  of  her  immature  age  should  allow 
herself  to  fall  in  love  with  a  juvenile  who  was  but  a  little  older 
than  herself.  He  pointedly  reminded  her  that  she  was  not 
living  in  India,  where  children  are  married  at  twelve,  but  in 
Boston,  where  people  are  not  supposed  to  reach  the  high  noon 
of  love  until  they  are  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  of  age." 

"It  isn't  good  sense,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "for  girls  and  boys 
to  go  a-cooing  with  one  another  wholesale  before  their  pin- 
feathers  begin  to  peep  through  the  down  of  their  pigeonhot  d. 
I  don't  mean  to  say,"  he  went  on  with  a  very  paternal  ai.', 
"that  either  one  of  you  has  been  imprudently  affectionate,  for 
although  you  and  Don  think  so  much  of  each  other,  you  have 
not  made  fools  of  yourselves.  But  I  do  mean  to  say  that  in 
thinking  of  Don  as  a  minister  and  wishing  for  him  to  be  one, 
you  are  also  thinking  of  yourself  as  a  minister's  wife  and 
hoping  to  be  one." 

It  was  a  cruel  little  lecture,  but  a  wholesome  one  neverthe- 
less. As  for  Don,  Cupid  played  no  tricks  with  him  while  on 
the  streets;  Boreas  was  holding  him  too  sternly  in  hand  for 
that.  The  snow  blinded  his  eyes,  the  frost  nipped  his  nose  and 
froze  his  very  eyelashes  together.  Tiring  of  dodging  aval- 
anches from  the  roofs,  he  took  to  the  middle  of  the  street, 
where  he  floundered  about  in  great  snowdrifts.  Not  a  vehicle 
made  its  appearance,  and  he  ki  ;w  by  the  red  and  bloated  faces 
of  the  few  pedestrians  who  were  abroad  that  only  an  all-con- 
suming thirst  for  strong  drink  could  have  drawn  them  out  in 


AItt   CASTLE    DON 


867 


iparently  and 
ing  it.  Nora 
er,  and  forth- 
:turn  for  what 

ology,  the  gist 
should  allow 
It  a  little  older 
she  was  not 
twelve,  but  in 
the  high  noon 
rs  of  age." 
■  girls  and  boys 
;fore  their  pin- 
;ir  pigeonhoc  d. 
ry  paternal  au; 
affectionate,  for 
other,  you  have 
n  to  say  that  in 
him  to  be  one, 
ister's  wife  and 

le  one  neverthe- 
th  him  while  on 
•nly  in  hand  for 
ped  his  nose  and 
f  dodging  aval- 
le  of  the  street, 
i.  Not  a  vehicle 
md  bloated  faces 
only  an  all-con- 
awn  them  out  in 


such  a  storm.  Seeing  a  white  mound,  out  of  which  a  shoulder 
was  protruding,  Don  probed  it  and  extracted  a  man  in  the  last 
stages  of  intoxication.  After  working  with  him  awhile,  he 
succeeded  in  learning  his  residence,  whither  he  conducted  him 
with  great  difficulty,  but  only  to  be  met  by  a  virago  of  a  woman 
who  cursed  her  husband,  and  Don  also,  for  not  letting  him  lie 
where  he  had  made  his  bed.  Pitying  the  shivering  children, 
of  whom  there  were  three,  he  endeavord  to  propitiate  the 
mother  in  the  hope  of  aiding  them  all  But  her  violence  was 
so  great  he  had  no  alternative  but  to  leave  the  tumble-down 
den  that  served  as  a  shelter  to  the  wretched  family. 

Warm  welcomes  elsewhere  partly  compensated  him  for  the 
untowardness  of  his  first  reception.  Few  were  forward  to  ask 
assistance,  while  nearly  all  were  anxious  to  further  his  aims, 
as  well  as  willing  to  receive  his  leaflets. 

Being  informed  that  a  family  on  the  second  floor  of  a  tene- 
ment building  was  reported  to  be  in  distress,  Don  knocked  at 
the  designated  door  and  by  a  voice  within  was  curtly  bidden 
to  enter. 

On  going  in  he  found  himself  in  a  room  lighted  by  a  single 
window  thickly  covered  with  the  fantastic  lacework  of  the  frost. 
The  floor  was  bare,  and  the  furniture  consisted  of  a  few  dilapi- 
dated chairs,  a  small  table,  on  which  were  a  few  dishes,  and 
beneath  which  were  piled  the  utensils  belonging  to  a  large, 
much  cracked  cooking  stove  that  was  destitute  of  fire. 

The  occupants  of  this  domestic  desert  had  put  on  all  the 
scanty  personal  wear  they  possessed,  and  in  addition,  in  order 
to  keep  the  breath  of  life  in  their  bodies,  had  covered  them- 
selves in  their  beds,  of  which  there  were  two.  In  one  of  these 
lay  the  parents  and  two  small  children,  in  the  other,  were  three 
girls,  ranging  from  six  to  thirteen.  Of  food  there  was  not  a 
crumb. 


t<!'  1 


AIB    CASTLE    DON 

Astounded  by  a  destitution  the  like  of  which  he  had  never 
witnessed,  Don  expressed  his  sympathy  and  his  destte  to  aid 
them. 

At  the  mention  of  aid,  there  was  a  general  stir  in  the  two 
beds.  The  head  of  the  family  raised  himself  to  an  upright 
posture,  but  glancing  at  the  tracts  Don  held  in  his  right  hand 
said,  with  the  sarcastic  bitterness  of  despair:  "Tracts  will 
hardly  meet  tlie  requirements  of  people  who  are  starving  and 
freezing." 

The  frigid  air  was  proof  enough  of  the  danger  of  freezing, 
and  the  emaciation  of  the  faces  that  were  in  sight  was  fright- 
fully significant  of  the  nearness  of  starvation. 

"I  beg  _,our  pardon,"  said  Don,  thrusting  the  tracts  into  his 
pocket,"  I  forgot  I  had  the  tracts.  The  sight  of  them  must 
be  provoking  to  people  who  are  in  your  condition.  If  you  will 
lie  down  and  keep  as  comfortable  as  you  can,  I  will  come  back 
with  fuel,  food  and  raiment.  I  may  be  delayed  because  of  the 
storm  and  the  state  of  the  streets,  but  you  may  count  on  relief 
for  a  certainty." 

He  had  no  sooner  gone  than  there  was  a  general  outburst 
of  hopeful  chatter  in  that  dark  chaos  of  poverty  and  helpless- 
ness. The  ragged  shrouds  stirred  with  something  resembling 
animation. 

"Will  he  really  come  back?"  asked  the  smallest  girl,  who 
had  been  holding  her  hands  in  her  armpits  to  keep  them  warm. 

"Yes,  Belle,"  replied  Louise,  the  sister  next  in  age,  "didn't 
you  see  his  face?  It  looked  as  if  there  was  a  soul  behind  it 
tliat  never  had  a  sham  thought  in  it.  He'll  come  back,  never 
fear." 

Had  it  not  been  Sunday,  Don's  course  would  have  been 
clear  to  an  immediate  return  from  coal  yard  and  grocery.    As 


-^.."W^T^ 


im-'  >4^t.ij'jtiiij| 


h  he  had  never 
is  desue  to  aid 

stir  in  the  two 
[  to  an  upright 
1  his  right  hand 
■:  "Tracts  will 
ire  starving  and 

iger  of  freezing, 
sight  was  fright- 
he  tracts  into  his 
ht  of  them  must 
tion.  If  you  will 
I  will  come  back 
sd  because  of  the 
iy  count  on  relief 

general  outburst 
:rty  and  helpless- 
jthing  resembling 

smallest  girl,  who 

keep  them  warm. 

:xt  in  age,  "didn't 

s  a  soul  behind  it 

come  back,  never 

would  have  been 
and  grocery.    As 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


269 


it  was,  he  went  direct  to  Doctor  Beecher  as  being  the  nearest 
available  help. 

In  the  absence  of  the  usual  Sunday  services  and  partially 
inspired  by  the  voices  of  the  storm,  the  doctor  was  deeply 
absorbed  in  working  out  another  chapter  of  his  book  on  "The 
Conflict  of  Ages."  He  was  brought  down  from  his  clouds  by 
the  appearance  of  Don  in  his  hallway  looking  like  an  animated 
snowman.  Notwithstanding  the  doctor  was  a  master  of  words 
he  knew  the  value  of  deeds.  When  Don  had  told  his  errand, 
Beecher  immediately  began  to  buzz  like  a  bee  which  has  spread 
his  wings  for  business. 

"You  see  that  house  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,"  he 
said,  directly.  "Well,  go  over  there,  and  besides  finding  snow 
upon  the  street,  you'll  find  snow  upon  the  doorplate,  and  that's 
the  name  of  my  best  deacon.  Give  him  my  compliments  and 
your  story  and  tell  him  to  load  up  for  duty.  Then  hurry  over 
to  Major  Vonberg's  house  and  tell  him  to  ditto  with  coals, 
kindling  and  whatever  else  he  can  carry,  for  his  daughter  Dor- 
othy has  a  handsled  that  she  uses  for  coasting  on  Copi»'s  Hill. 
Direct  him  to  report  to  Deacon  Snow  in  a  hurry.  Meanwhile 
I'll  see  what  the  preacher  can  muster.  We'd  call  upon  Mrs. 
Godwin,  but  she  is  too  far  away  for  our  present  purpose,  and 
we  will  hold  her  as  our  reserve," 

When  they  met  in  front  of  Df  aeon  Snow's  house,  they  were 
bundled  up  to  the  verge  of  suf^otation.  The  doctor  carried 
two  big  baskets,  one  packed  with  provisions,  and  the  other 
with  clothing.  In  his  haste  to  find  clothing,  he  jammed  his 
best  vest  and  trousers  into  the  basket  and  didn't  discover  his 
error  until  the  next  Sunday  morning,  when  he  wanted  them 
for  pulpit  wear.  The  deacon,  big,  florid  and  generous,  also 
had  a  sledload  of  provisions  and  clothing.  The  major,  puffing 
like  a  small  engine,  had  coals,  kindling,  clothing  and  edibles 


J 


i 


fVfT"«  "■*••'"'"■ 


.  iLi,i..,itri;» -,  ,1. 1  JiV  VIA'.'.'  .i%'.^n'!!^ 


r-ltj,, 


''',5i!»'!lW«P,-f-?:i- 


260 


AIR   OASTLE    DON 


tied  on  by  means  of  a  clothesline  which  his  servant  girl  looked 
for  in  vain  during  the  next  washing  at  his  house.  When  they 
started,  Vonberg  tugged  at  the  rope  ahead,  and  Don  pushed 
behind.  Keeping  to  the  inner  side  of  the  sidewalk,  they 
escaped  several  avalanches  that  shot  from  roofs  into  the  street; 
but  when  they  reached  Salem  street,  a  snow  cliff  that  was  no 
respector  of  persons,  and  that  had  been  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  play  a  prank,  slid  from  a  steep  roof  and  buried  the  whole 
party.  When,  unharmed,  they  began  to  wriggle  out  of  the 
snow  like  angle  worms  out  of  the  ground,  they  were  assisted 
by  a  lone  policeman,  who  by  some  miraculous  activity  of  con- 
science was  trying  to  patrol  his  beat.  Seeing  that  nobody  was 
hurt,  and  that  nothing  was  lost,  and  finding  that  all  four  were 
having  a  merry  time  over  their  misfortune,  he  took  the  baskets 
of  the  doctor,  whom  he  recognized  as  he  did  the  rest,  and 
directing  him  to  hitch  himself  to  Snow's  sled  as  furnishing  the 
easier  task,  he  accompanied  them  on  the  way. 

Although  talking  to  the  wind  is  generally  regarded  as  a 
futile  proceeding,  the  major  was  voluble  in  his  addresses  to  the 
blast  and  at  times  charged  against  it  as  vociferously  as  if  he 
were  leading  a  charge  against  an  enemy  in  Mexico.  His 
broken  orations  were  so  quaintly  amusing  that  after  one  of  his 
most  vehement  outbursts  the  policeman,  the  deacon  and  the 
doctor  sat  down  on  a  snow-cushioned  house-stoop  to  recover 
from  their  mirth. 

Don  sat  on  a  snowdrift  for  a  like  purpose,  but  suddenly 
recalling  the  scene  of  destitution  he  had  witnessed,  he  said: 
"Gentlemen,  while  we  are  laughing,  that  family  is  starving 
and  freezing." 

"God  forgive  us!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  taking  hold  of  the 
sled  rope  again;  "but  then,  after  all,  God  knows  that  a  good 
slice  of  our  lightness  of  heart  is  owing  to  our  being  on  the  way 


i-- 


'ant  girl  looked 
le.  When  they 
id  Don  pushed 

sidewalk,  they 
i  into  the  street; 
:liff  that  was  no 
ng  for  a  chance 
uried  the  whole 
iggle  out  of  the 
ey  were  assisted 
3  activity  of  con- 
that  nobody  was 
hat  all  four  were 

took  the  baskets 
iid  the  rest,  and 
as  furnishing  the 


lly  regarded  as  a 
is  addresses  to  the 
:iferously  as  if  he 
in  Mexico.  His 
lat  after  one  of  his 
le  deacon  and  the 
e-stoop  to  recover 

30se,  but  suddenly 

witnessed,  he  said: 

family  is  starving 

,  taking  hold  of  the 
knows  that  a  good 
iir  being  on  the  way 


rl^ 


.Jl.^    ,U     ■.^.■i'i-^-^.i-M-ir^-^SE 


-^ 


)(Ni4ii<a 


<r>^^^*. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


261 


to  help  them.    A  pint  of  helpfuhiess  is  more  exhilarating  than 
a  puncheon  of  wine." 

The  noise  made  by  their  ascent  of  the  stairs  aroused  the  dis- 
tressed family,  and  when  the  party  entered,  they  stood  in  the 
room  looking  at  the  invaders  with  big-eyed  wonder. 

Don  attacked  the  stove  without  ceremony.  As  the  readiest 
means  of  starting  a  blaze  under  the  kindling  sticks,  he  set  fire 
to  the  remainder  of  his  tracts,  saying  as  he  did  so,  that  he  knew 
of  no  better  use  to  which  they  could  be  put  under  the  circum- 
stances.    Both  the  doctor  and  the  deacon  said,  amen. 

When  the  invasion  was  over  and  the  family  was  left  to 
itself,  there  was  a  thanksgiving  that  needed  no  governor's 
proclamation  to  make  it  valid. 

Delavin,  the  head  of  the  family,  was  an  American  ship  car- 
penter, an  industrious  and  sober  mechanic,  and  foreman  of  his 
yard.  Owing  to  the  depression  of  the  times  and  his  inability 
to  obtain  other  work,  his  savings  gradually  vanished  until, 
driven  from  his  originally  comfortable  home,  even  his  furniture 
disappeared  piece  by  piece  to  the  pawnbrokers  for  subsistence. 

They  had  been  too  proud  spirited  to  ask  for  help,  and  had 
become  so  reduced  that  they  were  unable  to  continue  their 
search  for  employment.  With  the  means  of  existence  and 
comfort  now  liberally  yet  judiciously  supplied,  their  quarters 
were  changed,  their  persons  clothed,  their  bodies  fed,  and 
through  the  deacon  and  the  major,  Delavin  found  odd  jobs 
sufficient  to  carry  him  through  the  remainder  of  the  winter. 
Nor  was  he  left  to  his  own  resources  until  amply  able  to  pro- 
vide for  himself  and  family  by  turning  his  mechanical  skill  to 
the  building  of  railway  bridges,  in  which  calling  he  soon 
became  very  favorably  known. 

Of  all  the  distinguished  men  filling  the  Boston  pulpits  at 
that  time,  there  was  doubtless  not  one  but  would  have  been  as 


/ '  i  i 

"'II 


■J 


^iJ 


wmt 


"■•'"I'WfP 


*m 


AIR    0A8TL«    DON 


prompt  as  Doctor  Beecher  to  go  to  the  aid  of  the  needy  on 
that  Sunday  had  he  been  called  upon  for  such  a  work.  The 
same  conviction  may  be  justly  expressed  concerning  the  lead- 
ing officials  of  the  churches,  and  very  many  business  men. 
But  there  is  no  denying  the  dearth  of  Dons  willing  to  search  in 
the  face  of  discomfort  for  the  perishing  who,  for  want  of 
searching,  suffer  torments. 

When  Don  returned  and  gave  an  account  of  his  experi- 
ences, Bert  grew  discontented  with  himself.  Nora,  on  the 
other  hand,  congratulated  herself  on  having  encouraged  him  to 
go  forth,  and,  alas,  for  even  sweet  maidenhood,  she,  with  an 
appreciable  degree  of  self  righteousness,  credited  herself  in  no 
small  degree  with  the  honor  of  his  work. 

There  was  an  interesting  sequel  to  Don's  day's  \  jrk  that 
may  be  referred  to  hereafter.  .. 


li^fUfW^' . ^'"^  ■ '  M^Jf'If^f'.WWPfj 


)!  the  needy  on 
1  a  work.  The 
erning  the  lead- 
r  business  men. 
ling  to  search  in 
M),  for  want  o! 

It  of  his  expert- 
Nora,  on  the 
icouraged  him  to 
od,  she,  with  an 
ited  herself  in  no 

day's  \  ork  that 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 


A   FRUSTRATBD  THRBAT. 

After  their  work  was  done.  Deacon  Snow  insisted  that  his 
companions  should  dine  with  him.  At  the  table  a  No  Name 
Society  was  formed,  which  in  course  of  time  included  seventeen 
others  besides  the  four.  Strange  to  relate,  this  society  existed 
without  constitution,  rules,  officers,  annual  meetings,  reports 
or  speechmakings.  It  simply  said  to  Don:  "Go  ahead,  and 
we  will  back  you  with  all  the  money  you  need,  and  our  per- 
sonal efforts  also,  whenever  you  have  a  mind  to  order  us  to 
the  pulling  line." 

So  far  from  proclaiming  their  doings  upon  the  housetops 
or  in  the  market  places,  or  even  at  the  altars  of  religion,  they 
did  not  all  know  one  another,  much  less  what  each  one  did  to 
keep  Don  supplied  with  means.  Nor  did  the  papers  become 
apprised  of  their  doings  until  an  untoward  incident  made  them 
conspicuous. 

Armed  with  another  bundle  of  tracts  supplied  from  Mrs. 
Godwin's  pious  store,  Don  went  out  one  Sunday  morning 
toward  spring  on  a  'still  hunt'  for  other  necessitous  cases.  His 
bank  trust  fund  was  growing  faster  than  was  comfortable  for 
his  conscience.  It  was  now  eleven  hundred  dollars,  and  he 
was  anxious  that  every  dollar  of  it  should  be  about  its  business. 

When  evening  came,  Don  did  not  return;  this  was  cause 
for  anxiety,  for  the  Williamses  knew  of  no  intimate  friend  at 
whose  house  he  would  be  likely  to  pass  the  night.    But  when 

(263) 


iif'i.-*<X-.-'i>f  .:.''-"•*'■ 


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\ 


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p^^ 


.**> 


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TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STRISET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


s 


Canadian  Institute  for 


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J'fX.IKffiSU  W»J  iti^t'MWW.yr.iyBfiT'w^WWM^'r 


264 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


il      ■ 


day  after  day  passed  without  tidings  from  him,  alarm  deepened 
into  despair.  Immediate  measures  were  taken  to  obtain  some 
hint  of  his  fate,  but  without  cflfect. 

Instead  of  sympathizing  with  the  general  anxiety  excited  by 
Don's  disappearance.  Miss  Agincourt,  with  a  pervers'ty,  phe- 
nomenal for  a  woman,  insinuated  to  the  Vonbergs  that  he  had 
appropriated  the  money  he  was  known  to  have  been  the  custo- 
dian of  and  had  left  for  other  fields.  She  even  went  so  far  as 
to  intimate  that  if  the  Vonbergs  were  to  examine  their  books 
they  would  find  that  he  was  a  defalcator  of  their  own  funds. 
This  so  aroused  Dorothy's  indignation  and  the  ire  of  the  mas- 
culine Vonbergs  that  she  was  glad  to  make  an  excuse  for  leav- 
ing their  house  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 

After  her  departure,  Mrs.  Vonberg  undertook  to  palliate 
her  offense  by  pleading  her  lonely  condition,  and  this  stretch  of 
charity  induced  the  major  to  say  in  the  best  German  he  could 
command  that  his  wife  was  never  able  to  recognize  the  devil 
until  his  horns  grew  long  enough  to  scrape  the  ceiling. 

The  reporter  who  had  befriended  Don  at  the  first,  and  had 
steadfastly  adhered  to  him  through  thick  and  thin,  now  urged 
the  major  to  put  an  expert  on  his  books  in  Don's  defence. 
This  was  done  with  results  that  were  anticipated  by  his  friends. 
He  called  at  North  Square  to  obtain  what  information  he  could 
concerning  Don's  benevolent  accumulations  and  e:rpenditures. 
His  private  memorandum  was  found  to  contain  a  systematic 
account  of  all  amounts  received  and  expended,  while  his  bank 
book  showed  that  the  balance  called  for  by  the  memorandum 
had  been  deposited  at  the  bank.  A  call  at  the  bank  elicited  the 
fact  that  the  money  was  on  hand. 

"Everything  is  as  transparent  as  air,  and  as  clean  as  sun- 
light," said  the  reporter  to  the  major,  "so  far  as  his  accounts 
are  concerned.    He  has  doubtless  become  the  victim  of  foul 


l'"f(:l     f- 


'"  1Tr''!y^^-'^^V'^i^''^l'y*''"''*^^^''''■*-''^''""*^'*''''-'^'''?'■'|^^ 


alarm  deepened 
I  to  obtain  some 

xiety  excited  by 
pervers'ty,  phe- 
ergs  that  he  had 
:  been  the  custo- 
n  went  so  far  as 
nine  their  books 
their  own  funds, 
e  ire  of  the  mas- 
excuse  for  leav- 
t. 

rtook  to  palliate 
,nd  this  stretch  of 
jierman  he  could 
cognize  the  devil 
le  ceiling, 
the  first,  and  had 
thin,  now  urged 
n  Don's  defence. 
:ed  by  his  friends. 
)rmation  he  could 
and  expenditures, 
itain  a  systematic 
:d,  while  his  bank 
the  memorandum 
e  bank  elicited  the 

i  as  clean  as  sun- 
ir  as  his  accounts 
the  victim  of  foul 


AIR    C.\STLE    DON 


265 


play.  I  have  been  in  the  district  he  was  accustomed  to  visit 
on  Sundays,  but  beyond  the  testimonies  of  a  few  families  that 
saw  him  on  the  day  of  his  disappearance,  at  a  certain  hour  in 
certain  places,  I  can  gather  nothing  that  would  give  a  clew  to 
his  fate.     A  reward  ought  to  be  offered  for  tidings  of  him." 

"That  has  already  been  decided  upon,"  said  Werner,  "and 
we  have  just  sent  to  the  press  an  advertisement  offering  a 
reward  of  one  thousand  dollars  in  such  a  way  as  to  cover  all 
the  requirements  of  the  case.  Besides  this,  we  have  sent  for 
the  best  detective  of  New  York  to  come  to  our  assistance." 

The  press  and  the  police,  to  whom  Don  was  so  well  known, 
sympathetically  furthered  the  effort  to  solve  the  mystery  of  his 
disappearance. 

But  Don  was  not  dead,  nor  had  he  left  the  city. 

When  he  went  out  on  the  Surday  he  vanished  from  sight, 
he  intended  to  extend  his  explorations  to  Endicott  and 
Charlestown  streets  which,  at  that  time  included  a  neighbor- 
hood of  doubtful  repute.  Those  acquainted  with  the  district 
alleged  that  it  was  a  covert  for  sneak  thieves  and  cracksmen, 
and  criminals  of  a  similar  description.  Don,  however,  knew 
nothing  of  this;  he  only  saw  that  it  was  a  shabby  looking  dis- 
trict, and  he  went  into  it  thinking  that  beneath  its  surface  he 
might  happen  upon  some  unfortunates  that  would  be  benefitted 
by  his  visit. 

Discovering  an  open  passage  leading  to  the  upper  floors 
of  a  dilapidated  brick  building  of  large  proportions,  he 
addressed  a  neatly  clad  dark-complexioned  man  who  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  after  handing  him  a  leaflet,  asked  if 
he  thought  there  would  be  any  objections  made  to  the  distri- 
bution of  similar-leaflets  among  the  occupants  of  the  building. 

The  man  deliberately  folded  the  tract  and  put  it  into  the 
inner  pocket  of  his  overcoat.     Fixing  a  keen,  yet  somewhat 


1 1 


I 


,ii.*.;..^%, .-  :..>  »-.A:?^rlfcM  ^ 


wkmrnmumm 


„M  :t'!' j,ef..'i 


»n«aaiipppii 


SI66 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


furtive  eye,  upon  Don,  he  said  in  words  that  were  entirely  out 
of  keeping  with  the  neatness  of  his  appearance:  "You  are  a 
pretty  young  kid  to  be  round  peddling  holiness;  but  ihem  what 
lives  in  this  block  needs  all  the  pious  pills  you  can  chuck  into 
'em.  Go  right  up  and  let  'em  have  it.  They'll  guy  you  a  bit, 
but  I  'spose  you're  used  to  that  sort  of  thing." 

On  the  first  two  floors  the  occupants  seemed  to  be  so  aston- 
ished by  his  presence  that  they  were  speechless  when  the  leaf- 
lets were  offered.  Some  accepted  them  and  others  simply 
closed  the  door  against  him.  In  one  place  he  was  greeted  with 
a  string  of  oaths  that  were  as  original  as  they  were  wicked. 

On  knocking  at  a  dooi  on  the  upper  floor,  which  hsd  but 
one  occupied  quarter,  he  was  ushered  into  a  room  containing 
two  men  and  one  woman.  The  men  were  playing  cards,  but 
the  instant  he  was  inside,  they  greeted  him  with  oaths,  and, 
rising,  approached  him  menacingly.  Now  that  they  faced 
him,  Don  recognized  them  as  the  brothers  of  one  of  the  men 
sentenced  lo  the  penitentiary  for  robbing  the  Vonberg  house. 
Both  were  at  the  trial  at  which  their  brother  was  condemned, 
and  as  Don  left  the  court  room,  one  of  them  hissed  into  his  ear: 
"We'll  do  you  up  for  this." 

Instinctively  realizing  that  he  was  in  danger,  Don  backed 
toward  ihe  door,  but  before  he  could  make  his  escape  he  was 
knocked  senseless  io  the  floor  by  a  sandbag  in  the  hands  of 
one  of  the  ruffians.  When  he  regained  consciousness,  he 
found  himself  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  gagged,  and  sore  from 
head  to  feet  from  the  kicks  they  had  given  after  he  fell.  The 
room  was  so  dark  he  could  form  no  idea  of  either  its  dimen- 
sions or  its  appearance.  He  had  no  means  of  judging  how 
long  he  had  been  there,  and  besides,  he  was  in  such  a  weak 
condition  that  when  he  attempted  to  shift  his  position  by  roll- 
ing over  on  his  side,  he  relapsed  into  unconsciousness. 


ere  entirely  out 
;:  "You  are  a 
;  but  them  what 
can  chuck  into 
1  guy  you  a  bit, 

I  to  be  so  aston- 
s  when  the  leaf- 
I  others  simply 
vas  greeted  with 
were  wicked. 
,  which  hsd  but 
oom  containing 
aying  cards,  but 
with  oaths,  and, 
that  they  faced 
one  of  the  men 
Vonberg  house, 
was  condemned, 
ssed  into  his  ear: 

yer,  Don  backed 
is  escape  he  was 

in  the  hands  of 
onsciousness,  he 
id,  and  sore  from 
[terhefell.  The 
either  its  dimen- 

of  judging  how 
5  in  such  a  weak 
,  position  by  roll- 
:iousness. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


267 


After  knocking  their  victim  down  and  gratifying  their 
revengeful  feelings  by  kicking  him  severely,  the  men  robbed 
him  of  his  watch  and  money.  Believing  that  he  was  fatally 
injured,  the  removed  him  to  a  large  dark  closet,  where  they 
.'ntended  to  leave  him  until  night,  at  which  time  they  proposed 
to  remove  him  to  a  back  alley  and  leave  him  to  his  fate. 

On  Saturday  evening  Don  had  written  a  note  to  Doctor 
Beechor  in  which  he  stated  the  amount  he  had  in  the  bank  to 
the  credit  of  his  trust  fund  account,  and  expressed  his  desire  to 
expend  it  more  rapidly  than  he  was  doing.  This  note  was  on 
Don's  person,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  assailants.  It 
excited  their  cupidity  and  prompted  them  to  hold  Don  as  a 
prisoner  until  such  times  as  they  could  arrange  plans  by  which 
the  money  in  bank  could  be  gotten  into  their  possession. 
Removing  the  gag  and  giving  him  food  sufficient  to  keep  him 
alive  and  keeping  guard  over  him  with  unceasing  vigilance, 
they  tried  to  work  upon  his  fears,  but  to  no  purpose.  He 
assured  them  that  they  might  as  well  kill  him  at  once,  for  the 
money  was  beyond  their  reach,  an  J  would  remain  so.  If  he 
were  to  promise  to  give  it  up,  tbt;  circumstances  of  his  disap- 
pearance were  so  well  known  at  the  bank  that  any  atten.ot  to 
ransfer  the  amount  would  inevitably  lead  to  the  detection  and 
arrest  of  the  men. 

They  realized  the  cogency  of  his  arguments  and  were  about 
to  abandon  their  plan  and  kill  him  outright,  when  a  new  turn 
was  given  to  their  thoughts  by  the  appearance  of  the  advertise- 
ment, offering  the  reward  for  Don  or  for  any  information  that 
would  determine  his  fate.  They  now  proposed  to  work  for 
the  reward  and  tried  to  starve  Don  into  submission  to  their 
plans. 

So  intent  were  they  upon  the  execution  of  their  villainy 


i 


■i*  I 


«. 


■  .,■     f '  Mf^Viit'!" 


"^'*,',i!'S^ 


268 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


that  it  would  have  fared  hard  with  Don  but  for  an  interposition 
from  an  unexpected  source. 

Rudd  Debolt,  the  man  to  whom  Don  addressed  himself  at 
the  entrance  of  the  building  on  the  morning  of  his  disappear- 
ance, was  a  notorious  cracksman,  who  had  jnst  been  liberated 
from  the  penitentiary  after  serving  ten  years  for  burglarizing  a 
safe  in  a  store.  When  Don  met  him  he  stood  in  the  doorway 
deliberating  upon  his  future  course.  The  tract  Don  gave  him 
consisted  of  extracts  from  a  sermon  delivered  by  Edward  Ever- 
ett Hale,  then  young  and  very  popular  in  Boston.  Krasinski 
showed  the  sermon  to  Don  and  with  such  unqualified  approval 
that  the  two  published  the  extracts  in  a  leaflet  form  for  use  in 
Don's  work.  The  title  was  The  Better  Life,  and  the  words 
were  characterized  by  both  the  eloquence  and  the  common 
sense  of  the  young  preacher. 

When  Debolt  read  the  leaflet  it  made  him  a  changed  man, 
and  notwithstanding  the  difficulties  in  his  way,  he  determined 
to  make  a  struggle  for  the  better  life.  Both  Don's  face  and 
manner  had  accentuated  the  tract. 

When,  in  connection  with  the  reward  the  papers  described 
Don,  the  burglar  immediately  recognized  the  description.  He 
remembered  that  he  saw  Don  go  up  the  stairs  of  the  building 
on  the  second  floor  of  which  he  himself  had  a  room.  He  was 
struck  by  the  fact,  so  explicitly  brought  out  by  the  press,  that 
Don  was  last  seen  on  Endicott  street,  and  he  determined,  if 
possible  to,  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  his  disappearance,  and 
to  restore  him  to  his  friends. 

Debolt  was  expert  in  reading  the  thoughts  of  the  class  to 
which  he  had  heretofore  belonged.  He  was  quick  to  perceive 
that  the  Bedling  brothers — the  men  who  captured  Don — had 
something  unusual  upon  their  minds.  Making  himself  more 
than  ordinarily  familiar  with  them,  he  wormed  himself  into 


^mm 


•^T" 


B'wwwpmtujWiMiwii  .pimgiwfmtf^  yiT^'.ww" 


AIK    CASTLE    DON 


269 


an  interposition 

essed  himself  at 
>f  his  disappear- 
it  been  liberated 
)r  burglarizing  a 
1  in  the  doorway 
:t  Don  gave  him 
ly  Edward  Ever- 
ston.     Krasinski 
ualified  approval 
t  form  for  use  in 
!,  and  the  words 
ind  the  common 

I  a  changed  man, 
ly,  he  determined 
ii  Don's  face  and 

papers  described 
description.  He 
rs  of  the  building 
a  room.  He  was 
by  the  press,  that 
he  determined,  if 
lisappearance,  and 

hts  of  the  class  to 
;  quick  to  perceive 
iptured  Don — ^had 
king  himsel*  more 
rmed  himself  into 


their  confidence,  and  very  soon,  after  obtaining  their  secret, 
became  an  apparent  confederate  in  their  conspiracy,  thus  learn- 
ing where  and  how  Don  was  confined.  Having  attained  his 
object,  the  police  were  informed,  and  when  the  building  was 
surrounded  by  an  adequate  force,  Don  was  discovered  in  the 
condition  described  by  the  ex-burglar,  the  criminals  having 
been  captured  at  the  outset. 

Don  had  been  a  captive  for  fourteen  days,  and  was  so 
emaciated  that  he  was  but  the  shadow  of  his  former  self. 
Vonberg,  who  had  bewailed  him  as  dead,  was  greatly  desirous 
of  removing  him  to  his  own  house  for  care  and  medical  treat- 
ment, but,  as  was  natural,  Don  preferred  to  be  taken  to  his  old 
quarters  and  to  the  companionship  of  the  widow's  family. 

Happily  he  was  not  so  much  injured  c-s  was  at  first  feared, 
and  his  recovery  was  so  rapid  that  in  six  days  he  was  able  to 
return  to  his  duties. 

Den's  abductors  were  speedily  sent  to  keep  company  with 
the  two  criminals  he  had  so  accidentally  discovered  on  Copp's 
Hill.  .  " 

It  was  one  of  the  curious  effects  of  this  series  of  incidents 
that  the  vicious  classes  of  that  part  of  the  city  became  super- 
stitiously  afraid  of  Don  and  avoided  the  very  mention  of  his 
name  lest  it  should  cast  an  unlucky  spell  upon  them.  If  any 
of  them  happened  to  see  him  on  the  street  in  the  vicinity  of 
their  haunts,  they  fled  from  him  lest  a  look  from  him  should 
send  them  to  prison. 

The  building  where  Don  was  held  captive  was  discovered 
by  the  police  authorities  to  be  the  nesting  place  of  some  of  the 
most  notorious  criminals  of  the  city.  The  eminently  respect- 
able member  of  society  who  had  drawn  a  portion  of  his  wealth 
from  the  rentals  of  the  building  became  so  ashamed  of  the 
notoriety  he  attained  through  the  publication  of  the  facts,  that 


aifc-Wt^Hf^uJiH**"  m< 


I'i^'  ..-viitf  «*i"-^.-:¥. 


270 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


he  demolished  tho  structure  and  on  its  site  constructed  a  tene- 
ment house  that  would  bear  the  scrutiny  of  civilized  people. 

"Now,  Master  Don,"  said  Bert  one  evening  in  the  presence 
of  Nora,  "you  have  won  scars  enough  to  last  for  the  remainder 
of  your  natural  life,  and  you  ought  to  turn  over  this  tract  busi- 
ness and  this  running  around  after  poor  people  to  some  of  the 
societies  and  their  agents." 

"Yes,''  assented  Nora,  who  had  suffered  unspeakably  on 
Don's  account,  and  who,  at  the  moment  forgot  to  be  consistent 
with  herself,  "let  the  societies  do  this  work.  You  have  done 
more  than  your  share  of  it."  , 

But  Don,  who  was  neither  dismayed  by  his  experiences  nor 
diverted  from  his  purpose,  said:  "There  is  already  too  much 
societyism  and  oiBcialism  in  caring  for  the  neglected  and  the 
unfortunate.  When  people  are  wrecked,  they  want  a  rescue 
rope  and  not  a  piece  of  red  tape.  I  shall  stick  to  our  No 
Name  way  of  working;  and  all  the  closer,  now  that  I  have 
Debolt  to  help  me.     He  has  become  a  host  in  himself." 

At  the  mention  of  Debolt,  both  Bert  and  Nora  g^rew  less 
confident  as  to  the  righteousness  of  their  motives  in  trying  to 
dissuade  Don  from  continuing  his  Sunday  work. 

There  was  good  reason  for  mentioning  Debolt  in  such  high 
and  confiding  terms.  He  was  entitled  to  the  reward  offered 
for  Don,  but  refused  to  accept  it.  This  is  what  he  said  in 
explanation : 

"That  lad  gave  me  that  tract  at  the  very  moment  I  was 
debating  my  future  course  in  my  own  mind.  When  one  is 
just  from  the  penitentiary  one's  prospects  are  not  very  promis- 
ing. Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at.  Bad  wheat  is  apt  to 
make  bad  flour.  Those  who  are  bad  enough  to  be  sent  to  the 
penitentiary  come  out  no  better  than  they  were  when  they 
were  sent  in.     There  may  be  exceptions,  but  they  are  few. 


?w.TiyT«'Tr^ygn>  p» 


itructed  a  tene- 
ilized  people, 
in  the  presence 
the  remainder 
this  tract  busi- 
to  some  of  the 

inspeakably  on 
to  be  consistent 
You  have  done 

experiences  nor 
ready  too  much 
glected  and  the 
J  want  a  rescue 
kick  to  our  No 
low  that  I  have 
himself." 
Nora  grew  less 
ives  in  trying  co 
)rk. 

)olt  in  such  high 
;  reward  offered 
what  he  said  in 

■  moment  I  was 
1,  When  one  is 
not  very  promts- 
wheat  is  apt  to 
to  be  sent  to  the 
were  when  they 
lit  they  are  few. 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


271 


Still  if  others  were  met  as  I  was  met,  they  might  be  induced  to 
do  as  I  have  done. 

"My  first  step  in  the  better  life  was  my  determination  to 
find  Don  if  he  was  alive,  or  to  get  at  the  secret  of  his  disap- 
pearance if  he  were  dead.  I  took  my  success  in  finding  him 
alive  as  a  sign  that  I  was  to  be  successful  in  my  efforts  to  be 
a  different  man.  I  never  thought  of  the  reward  for  a  single 
moment ;  indeed,  I  forgot  that  it  was  offered. 

"If  I  were  to  accept  it,  people  would  say  that  I  found  the 
boy  for  the  sake  of  the  money,  and  I  should  also  be  liable  to 
the  suspicion  that  I  had  been  a  party  to  his  disappearance. 
I  sought  him  for  his  own  sake,  and  also  because  I  felt  that  in 
some  way  my  life  was  bound  up  in  his. 

"Do  what  you  please  with  the  reward.  All  that  I  ask  is 
that  I  may  find  employment  that  will  enable  me  to  live  an 
honest  life,  and  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  accompany  the  lad  on 
his  Sunday  trips  among  the  waste  places  of  the  city  as  a  guard 
and  helper." 

The  major,  who,  with  his  sons,  had  offered  the  greater  part 
of  the  reward,  decided  to  set  the  money  apart  for  relief  work. 
He  was  so  strongly  moved  by  Debolt's  plea  that  he  made  him 
foreman  of  his  packing  department,  where  he  proved  handy 
and  faithful,  and  all  the  rtiore  so  because  he  was  in  constant 
contact  with  his  young  friend. 

Debolt  now  invariably  accompanied  Don  on  his  Sunday 
tours  among  the  needy  and  neglected.  He  had  a  peculiar 
tact  for  approaching  people  who  were  inclined  to  be  suspicious 
of  efforts  made  for  their  elevation.  He  was  a  good  singer  and 
ready  and  apt  in  speaking.  Encouraged  by  Den.  he  started 
'Betterment  Meetinofs'  in  various  localities  and  gave  'Break 
Lock  Talks'  that  brcg^ht  him  into  notice  all  over  the  city. 
Don  listened  to  him  with  an  amazement  bordering  on  awe,  and 


r^a^\v^^sw^¥WP?&i>'* '^'T*^-'"-' 


S3C=? 


•"TT" 


972 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


received  impressions  from  his  words  that  sank  very  deeply 
into  his  life. 

So  many  were  afTccted  by  Dcbolt's  'New  Life*  stories  that 
it  soon  became  a  question  as  to  what  should  be  done  with  those 
who  had  determined  to  imitate  his  New  Life  example. 

"Organize  a  mission,"  said  some ;  and  even  before  any  plan 
was  formed  for  such  a  purpose,  some  began  to  strain  their 
inventive  powers  for  a  suitable  name  for  such  an  undertaking. 
There  were  almost  rancorous  disputes  as  to  whether  it  should 
be  called  The  Bethel  Miosion,  or  the  Bethesda;  the  Bartimeus 
Mission  or  the  Magdalene,  Two  or  three  wealthy  people 
offered  to  furnish  large  sums  of  money  toward  the  proposed 
enterprise,  provided  the  mission  should  be  named  after  selected 
members  of  their  families.  One,  especially,  a  gentleman  who 
had  made  a  fortune  by  manufacturing  beer,  offered  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  if  they  would  name  the  mission  The  Elizabeth 
Chapel,  after  a  deceased  daughter. 

Neither  Don  nor  Debolt  sympathized  with  any  plan  that 
proposed  to  tag  the  sheep  of  the  fold  with  discriminating  dis- 
tinctions. There  were  churches  enough  in  the  vicinity  to  fur- 
nish accommodations  for  all  who  were  in  earnest.  There  was 
no  scriptural  precedent  for  tagging  some  sheep  as  having  fine 
wool  and  others  as  having  coarse  wool,  and  separating  the  one 
class  from  the  other  class  as  if,  instead  of  being  sheep  and — 
sheep,  they  were  sheep — and  goats. 

Deacon  Snow  aided  and  abetted  by  his  robust  pastor,  said: 
"Fetch  them  along;  the  faster  the  better.  We  have  nothing 
that  is  too  good  for  them.  Converted  sinners,  like  Debolt, 
may  be  the  means  of  converting  some  of  our  saints  and  causing 
them  to  see  the  error  of  their  fastidious  ways.  No  church 
should  be  a  mere  starch  manufactory." 


»-'ii*l#i& 


*>'-li 


ink  very  deeply 

Life'  stories  that 
!  done  with  those 
example. 
1  before  any  plan 
n  to  strain  their 
I  an  undertaking, 
whether  it  should 
la;  the  Bartimcus  ' 
;  wealthy   people 
ard  the  proposed 
med  after  selected 
a  gentleman  who 
offered  ten  thou- 
on  The  Elizabeth 

nth  any  plan  that 
iiscriminating  dis- 
the  vicinity  to  fur- 
rnest.  There  was 
eep  as  having  fine 
separating  the  one 
being  sheep  and — 

robust  pastor,  said: 
We  have  nothing 
mers,  like  Debolt, 
•  saints  and  causing 
ways.    No  church 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


AN   KliOPBMKNT. 

The  Lady  of  The  Lake  Club  continued  its  existence, 
though  now  not  one  of  the  original  members  was  in  attend- 
ance upon  its  frequent  sessions.  Tlie  roster  of  the  constituent 
members  still  occupied  the  place  of  honor  on  the  walls.  The 
list,  made  out  in  the  beautiful  handwriting  of  Arnold  Doane, 
and  carefully  framed  and  glazed,  and  running  with  elaborately 
ornamented  titles  from  the  Grand  Potentate  down  to  the 
Gtand  Keyman,  was  as  reverently  regarded  as  if  it  were  a 
patent  of  nobility  to  which  the  later  members  owed  both  their 
importance  and  their  inspiration. 

Peter  Piper  had  no  home  of  his  own,  but  being  in  great 
repute  among  the  boys  as  a  man  who  had  no  end  of  veteran 
yarns  to  recite,  they  built  him  a  cuddy  on  The  Lady  of  The 
Lake  and  placed  him  in  charge  of  all  the  belongings  of  the 
club,  furnishing  him  with  the  requisite  amount  of  food  to  keep 
the  breath  of  life  in  him,  and  a  small  gratuity  besides, 

Peter  was  proud  of  his  office,  and  conscientiously  lessened 
the  expense  of  his,  keep  by  making  independent  additions  to  his 
larder.  A  hook  cast  overboard  brought  him  fish,  recourse  to 
the  shore  supplied  him  with  clams,  search  among  the  shore 
recks  gave  him  lobsters,  and,  as  he  was  handy  with  his  g^n, 
there  were  wild  ducks  that  could  be  had  for  the  shooting. 

He  had  but  a  single  daily  companion,  and  that  was  a  large 
red  squirrel,  which  he  had  captured  in  the  days  of  its  infancy 


i<a&&fet..- 


.,}  .i: , 


^SipflWW- 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


and  trained  to  obey  his  behests,  listen  to  his  conversation  and 
amuse  his  lone  hours.  The  s(iuirrel  generally  perched  on 
Peter's  shoulder  in  demure  sobriety  while  the  Scot  was  reading 
his  Bible,  and  for  want  of  a  tree  ran  up  and  down  his  legs  and 
played  hide-and-go-seek  among  his  garments  when  liberties 
of  that  kind  were  permitted.  When  Peter  talked,  the  squirrel 
having  discovered  that  he  conversed  more  for  the  sake  of  list- 
ening to  himself  than  he  did  for  the  benefit  of  his  company, 
chattered  irrelevantly  back  again  in  a  language  which  had 
descended  to  it  from  the  woods. 

As  a  stimulus  to  memory,  Peter  called  the  squirrel  Don^ 
and  when  it  was  too  pranky  for  profit,  he  gave  it  lessons  in 
gravity  with  as  much  earnestness  as  though  he  were  address- 
ing Air  Castle  Don  himself. 

He  kept  Don  supplied  with  leaves  for  his  bed,  nuts  for  his 
chops,  salt  for  his  tongue,  and  any  amount  of  liberty  for  his 
recreation.  Thankful  for  the  ease  of  his  old  age,  he  not  infre- 
quently said  to  the  squirrel:  "I  have  been  young,  and  now 
am  old;  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his 
seed  begging  bread.     See  Psalm  thirty-seven  and  twenty-five." 

It  was  against  Peter's  principle  to  do  any  work  upon  the 
Sabbath  day;  hence  he  never  rowed  ashore  to  nttend  church. 
The  touch  of  the  oars  would  have  been  a  breach  of  the  com- 
mandments. But  he  did  not  go  without  preaching.  He  held 
services  on  boArd,  and  having  heard  so  many  sermons  during 
Lis  life-time  that  were  not  according  to  his  notions  of  what 
l':ey  should  have  been,  he  preached  from  the  same  texts  so  as 
to  suit  himself,  and  never  failed  to  complete  the  service  by 
1  raying  prayers  of  Scottish  length,  and  singing  Scotch  ver- 
sions of  the  psalms  without  abbreviation. 

At  such  times  the  squirrel  availed  himself  of  his  liberty, 
and,  curling  himself  up  in  his  leafy  bed,  slept  through  the  whole 


"■•'•"^f'' 


conversation  and 
ally  perched  on 
Scot  was  reading 
lown  his  legs  and 
ts  when  liberties 
Iked,  the  squirrel 
r  the  sake  of  Hst- 
of  his  company, 
juage  which  had 

the  squirrel  Don^ 

gave  it  lessons  in 

he  were  address- 

s  bed,  nuts  for  his 
of  liberty  for  his 
[  age,  he  not  infre- 
1  young,  and  now 
forsaken,  nor  his 
n  and  twenty-five." 
ny  work  upon  the 
;  to  attend  church. 
Breach  of  the  com- 
■eaching.     He  held 
ny  sermons  during 
lis  notions  of  what 
lie  same  texts  so  as 
lete  the  service  by 
inging  Scotch  ver- 

nself  of  his  liberty, 
t  through  the  whole 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


276 


performances  of  his  revered  master.  That  squirrel  dis- 
tinguished times  and  seasons ;  for  when  the  club  was  on  board 
he  was  all  life;  he  climbed  legs  with  impunity,  and  stationed 
himself  on  the  shoulder  of  The  Grand  Potentate  whenever  he 
desired  to  watch  the  proceedings  of  the  august  body. 

The  Lady  of  The  Lake  became  enamoured  of  Peter  Piper, 
and  fearing  lest  some  untoward  event  should  separate  her  from 
him,  she  determined  to  elope  with  him.  Consulting  her  "next 
best  friend,"  the  Wind,  she  arranged  her  programme  accord- 
ing to  his  suggestions. 

On  Saturday  night  Peter  went  to  bed  and  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  just ;  but  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning  her  Ladyship 
was  dancing  with  a  recklessness  that  made  him  think  he  was 
dreaming  with  his  eyes  open.  The  squirrel,  terrified  by  the 
unwonted  movements  of  The  Lady,  crouched  on  the  Scotch- 
man's breast  and  worked  its  jaws  to  express  its  discontent. 

Becoming  conscious  of  his  presence,  Peter  said:  "Donny, 
are  my  senses  leavin'  me?  Or  is  the  de'il  really  rockin'  us  on 
the  holy  Sabbath  day?" 

He  dressed  himself  and  cautiously  ascended  to  the  deck. 
The  air  was  clear,  and  a  flood  of  sunrise-light  reddened  sea 
and  sky.  A  faint  purple  streak  in  the  far  distance  was  the  only 
sign  of  land.  In  the  early  part  of  the  night  a  sudden  squall 
of  unusual  violence  had  broken  the  Lady  from  her  moorings, 
carried  her  out  toward  the  mor^h  of  the  harbor  and  then  left 
her  to  herself.  The  outgoing  tiJ".  carrried  her  into  the  open 
waters  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  where,  with  a  wind  off  shore,  she 
was  drifting  further  and  further  to  sea. 

Peter  was  not  long  in  guessing  what  had  happened;  the 
fragment  of  chain  hanging  from  the  bow,  and  the  confusion 
of  things  on  deck  told  the  story.    Nor  was  he  slow  to  discover 


i! 


I 

i 


m 


m 


276 


AIB    CASTLE    DON 


the  predicament  he  was  in,  nor  long  in  making  up  his  mind 
what  to  do. 

"Sin'  I  canna  help  mysel'  I'll  gae  below  an  get  my  break- 
fast," he  said,  resignedly.  "What  is  to  be,  will  be.  Gin  the 
Lord  is  gaein'  to  bury  me  at  sea  wi'  tlic  vessel  for  a  coffin  to 
save  the  expense  o'  a  funeral  on  Ian',  he'll  not  begrudge  rne 
the  eatin'  o'  the  things  I  hae  for  breakfaet." 

He  went  below  and  prepaiod  his  meal  with  his  accustomed 
care,  and  ate  it  with  his  usual  relish.  Donny  accupied  a  place 
at  the  bottom  of  the  table  and  followed  his  master's  example, 
by  eating  his  morning  allowance  of  two  nuts  and  as  much  corn 
cake  as  he  chose  to  indulge  in.  After  breakfast,  Peter  read  a 
chapter  of  the  Bible,  quaveringly  sang  a  section  of  the  metrical 
Psalms  and  devoutly  prayed  a  long  prayer.  Promptly,  when 
the  club  clock  indicated  the  usual  hour  of  Sabbath  worship,  he 
solemnly  placed  himself  in  The  Grand  Potentate's  chair  of 
office  behind  the  stand,  and  resolutely  performed  all  the  parts 
of  a  regular  service,  while  Donny  rolled  himself  into  a  ball  and 
somr.olcntly  enjoyed  his  ease  in  one  of  the  club  chairs.  Not 
until  the  self-appointed  minister  ceased  his  droning,  did  the 
squirrel  begin  to  show  signs  of  life  again.  Then  he  went  to 
his  master  and  sought  to  climb  to  his  shoulder  in  his  habitually 
gamboling  manner. 

"It  isna  fit  ye  should  be  sae  blithe  upo'  this  day,"  said  Peter, 
rebukingly ;  "it's  not  only  the  Sabbath  day,  but  a  day  o'  afflec- 
tion  an'  woe  besides.  Gae  to  yor  nest  an'  leave  me  to  my 
sorrow."  There  was  something  hindering  in  his  voice,  as 
Donny  was  quick  to  discern,  but  inasmuch  as  the  roaster 
ofTcred  no  violent  opposition,  he  cautiously  continued  his 
climbing  till  he  reached  the  shoulder  where  he  stood  up  and 
industriously  set  his  pelt  in  order.  Peter  affected  to  ignore 
his  presence,  yet  all  the  while  was  glad  of  his  company. 


pdvkuTT^^r  ^~>v^ii^»4vt  U 


^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


27/ 


cing  up  his  mind 

an  get  my  break- 
will  be.  Gin  the 
;scl  for  a  coffin  to 
not  begrudge  me 

ith  his  accustomed 

y  accupied  a  place 

master's  example, 

5  and  as  much  corn 

kfast,  Peter  read  a 

tion  of  the  metrical 

Promptly,  when 

sabbath  worship,  he 

Potentate's  chair  of 

formed  all  the  parts 

tnself  into  a  ball  and 

le  club  chairs.     Not 

lis  droning,  did  the 

.    Then  he  wcat  to 

Ider  in  his  habitually 

this  day,"  said  Peter, 
,-,  but  a  day  o'  afflec- 
an  leave  me  to  my 
ng  in  his  voice,  as 
much  as  the  roaster 
ously  continued  his 
lere  he  stood  up  and 
er  affected  to  ignore 
i  his  company. 


The  day  passed  drearily  with  no  sail  in  sight  to  afford  a 
hope  of  rescue.  At  night,  as  there  was  only  a  moderate 
breeze,  and  no  sea  to  speak  of,  and  as  the  sky  was  clear,  Peter 
went  below  and  slept  till  morning,  for  he  had  trustingly  said: 
"Take  therefore  no  thought  for  the  morrow,  for  the  morrow 
shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself.  Sufficient  unto  the 
day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

The  next  morning  was  calm  and  foggy.  A  schooner 
bound  from  Halifax  to  Boston  lay  in  the  mist  flapping  her 
soggy  sails  in  monotonous  idleness.  Presently  every  ear 
caught  a  strange  sound. 

"What  in  the  world  can  tliat  be?"  exclaimed  the  captain  to 
his  first  mate.  "It  sounds  like  some  one  trying  to  settle  a 
swarm  of  bees  by  beating  on  a  big  tin  pan." 

"It's  a  tin  pan  fast  enough,"  said  the  mate,  as  the  noise 
increased  in  vehemence;  "and  I  guess  some  skipper  has  lost  his 
fog-horn  overboard  and  is  using  a  tin  pan  for  a  fog  signal. 

Presently  a  lift  in  the  mist  disclosed  the  Lady  of  The  Lake 
not  more  than  a  dozen  lengths  distant.  A  bleached,  sailless 
vessel  with  only  a  white-headed  old  man  on  board  beating  a 
tin  pan  with  the  energy  of  a  drummer,  was  not  a  sight  to  reas- 
sure the  superstitious,  and  the  common  sailors  on  the  Lucy 
Ann  were  nearly  paralyzed  with  fear  at  the  appearance  of  the 
apparently  spectral  schooner. 

"What  do  you  make  of  her,  Legget?"  asked  the  captain, 
addressing  his  first  mate,  in  an  awe-stricken  voice. 

"I  guess  it's  the  old  man  of  the  sea,"  said  the  mate,  laugh- 
ing irreverently.  "But  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  neglecting 
some  one  in  distress,  I  reckon  we'd  better  lower  a  boat  and 
board  the  craft.  That  old  chap  is  making  too  much  of  a  hulla- 
baloo with  that  pan  to  be  a  regular  fore-an'aft-ghost." 

The  mate  had  no  sooner  reached  the  deck  than  Peter,  after 


-  i 


n^M^msJeBi^ 


'fff 


Ift 


M  !' 


[| 


i>^mii-"i 


4  t     !■■ 

;.     t 


'  , 


ri 


278 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


shaking  hands  with  him  in  a  very  flesh-and-blood  manner  said 
loquaciously:  "The  Lord  be  praised  for  his  mercy  to  an  old 
finner.  I  heard  the  floppin'  o'  your  sails,  an'  I  said,  'How 
shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation?'  See  Hebrews 
second  and  third.  I  believed  ye'd  bin  sent  to  deliver  me  frae 
the  sea,  but  wi'  a'  my  might  an'  main  I  tried  to  make  ye  know 
where  I  was  by  poundin'  the  pan.  'Faith  without  works  is 
dead,'  ye  ken.     See  James  second  and  twentieth." 

The  sailor,  who  accompanied  the  mate,  on  hearing  this  kind 
c^  speech,  increased  the  distance  between  himself  and  Peter, 
under  the  impression  that  he  was  a  raving  lunatic. 

The  mate,  however,  had  met  Scotchmen  before,  and  several 
times  in  his  life  ha  1  run  against  that  particular  type  of  Scot 
that  makes  a  Bible  concordance  of  himself.  Besides,  having  a 
sly  vein  of  humor,  he  thought  he  detected  something  of  the 
same  kind  sneaking  under  cover  of  the  old  man's  piety.  He 
was  confirmed  in  his  suspicions  when,  on  venting  his  mirth, 
Peter  laughed  back  at  him  in  the  sanest  way  imaginable,  and 
by  way  of  forestalling  enquiries,  said : 

"My  name  is  Peter  Piper,  but  I'm  sometimes  ca'd  Peter 
Pickles,  or  Peter  Pepper,  or  Piping  Peter,  or  Peter-Peter 
Punkin-eater,  accordin'  to  the  workin'  o'  the  wickedness  o* 
them  that  speak."  And  then,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the 
mate,  he  went  on  to  explain  how  he  happened  to  be  in  such  a 
plight.  "Ye'U  ken  the  truth  better  gin  ye'll  go  below  an'  take 
a  luik  at  our  insides,"  he  added  at  the  end. 

The  long  room  extending  from  stem  to  stern,  the  pompous 
desk,  and  plain  chairs;  the  cooking  and  eating  arrangements, 
the  moose-horn  chandelier  and  tangle  of  other  curiosities;  the 
ornamental  roster  and  the  pictures  upon  the  walls,  the  long 
table  and  numerous  books;  and,  above  all,  the  grotesque 
assortment  of  theatrical  garments  and  equipments  hanging  at 


'.''''  ™-n.ff-^r^'-  ■ 


,...«... 


lood  manner  said 
mercy  to  an  old 
an'  I  said,  'How 
n?*  See  Hebrews 
to  deliver  me  frae 
to  make  ye  know 
without  works  is 
ieth." 

1  hearing  this  kind 
limself  and  Peter, 
natic. 

sefore,  and  several 
ular  type  of  Scot 
Besides,  having  a 
something  of  the 
man's  piety.  He 
venting  his  mirth, 
ly  imaginable,  and 

netimes  ca'd  Peter 
er,  or  Peter-Peter 
the  wickedness  o* 
amusement  of  the 
led  to  be  in  such  a 
1  go  below  an'  take 

stern,  the  pompous 
ting  arrangements, 
:her  curiosities;  the 
the  walls,  the  long 
all,  the  grotesque 
ipments  hanging  at 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


279 


the  far  end  of  the  room  amazed  Legget  and  appalled  his  more 
superstitious  shipmate. 

The  latter  was  more  and  more  inclined  to  believe  that  The 
Lady  of  The  Lake  and  all  her  belongings  boded  no  good  to 
any  one  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  on  board  of  her.  Whilst 
he  was  debating  matters  in  his  own  mind,  Donny,  unnoticed 
by  him,  came  up  behind,  and,  rejoicing  in  the  addition  to  the 
cabin  company,  gave  a  spring  and  ran  up  the  sailor's  body  till 
he  reached  the  shoulder.  The  man  was  so  terrified  that  he 
uttered  a  shriek  and  started  for  the  companionway ;  nor  did  he 
stop  till  rowing  back  to  the  Lucy  Ann  he  informed  the  cap- 
tain that  the  devil  and  all  his  imps  had  possession  of  the 
strange  craft. 

After  berating  the  man  for  his  cowardice,  the  captain,  tak- 
ing with  him  a  less  superstitious  sailor,  boarded  The  Lady  of 
The  Lake  to  investigate  matters  for  himself.  Legget  was  not 
aware  of  the  flight  of  his  shipmate  until  he  saw  the  captain  and 
the  new  man  descending  the  companionway. 

The  explanations  that  followed,  although  unavoidably  com- 
plicated, eventually  ended  in  an  outburst  of  mirth,  in  which 
Peter  joined  without  restraint. 

After  making  an  examination  of  the  vessel,  the  captain  took 
her  in  tow  for  Boston.  She  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a 
derelict,  and  whatever  she  might  be  sold  for,  would  be  clear 
gain  for  the  trip  of  The  Lucy  Ann. 

Peter  remained  on  board  and  spent  the  time  between  meals 
and  prayers  in  making  a  cage  for  Donny,  whose  fortunes  he 
considered  as  linked  to  his  own,  and  whose  future  he  intended 
to  take  care  of  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  He  had  sailed  into 
Boston  several  times  in  the  course  of  hu  life,  though  under 
far  diflferent  circumstances.  There  were  seven  pieces  of  gold 
sewed  up  in  his  clothes  and  having  boarded  at  the  Mariners* 


i  % 


li.'',"':'i'!!"'*""" "  I '  "'wp>;'i'-,"'"Ti.! 


280 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Home  several  times  he  resolved  to  go  there  with  the  squirrel 
imtil  such  times  as  he  could  decide  upon  his  course.  He  knew 
the  number  of  Don's  place  of  business  and  treasured  it  in  his 
memory  as  scrupulously  as  he  did  the  chapter  and  verse  of  the 
fragments  of  sacred  writ  with  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
interlarding  his  conversation. 

One  morning  as  Don  was  absorbed  in  his  ledgers,  all 
unmindful  of  what  was  going  on  around  him,  a  voice  at  his 
elbow  suddenly  said :  "  'The  Lord  be  between  thee  and  me  for- 
ever.* See  first  Samuel,  twentieth  chapter,  twenty-third 
verse." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  voice,  nor  the  well-known 
peculiarity,  much  less  the  person,  of  Peter  who,  hat  in  hand, 
stood  with  beaming  face  waiting  for  the  recognition  that  he 
knew  would  be  warmly  given. 

"In  the  name  of  all  goodness,  Peter  Piper,  how  did  you 
get  here?"  Don  exclaimed,  taking  the  old  Scot  by  the  hand  and 
giving  him  a  country  grip  and  shake. 

"I  cam'  the  greater  part  o'  the  way  on  The  Lady  of  The 
Lake;  an'  for  the  rest  o'  the  distance,  which  was  not  great,  I 
cam'  on  my  ain  unnerstandin's.  An'  I'm  sae  daft  to  see  ye 
I'd  be  willin'  to  lam  the  names  o'  a'  the  descendents  o'  Shem, 
Ham  an'  Japhet  gin  ye  were  to  require  it  at  my  hands." 

"I  am  so  glad  myself  that  I'll  excuse  you  from  that  tough 
task.  But  you  do  not  really  mean  to  tell  me  that  The  Lady 
of  The  Lake  has  gone  into  the  salt  water  business  again?" 

"Na,  not  exactly;  but  summat  so,  nevertheless;  forasmuch 
as  I'm  here,  she  fetcht  me  a'  the  way  frae  Barrington  to 
Boston.  Ye'll  ken  a'  about  it  gin  ye'll  read  the  marnin'  papers 
which  I  hae  brought  wi'  me.  *In  the  mouth  of  two  or  three 
witnesses  every  word  may  be  established.*  See  Matthew, 
eighteen  and  sixteen." 


■vn 


'  'fy.  w>yy-'''-'n''j 


•rrrf 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


281 


with  the  squirrel 
ourse.  He  knew 
reasured  it  in  his 
r  and  verse  of  the 
s  in  the  habit  of 

J  his  ledgers,  all 
m,  a  voice  at  his 
1  thee  and  me  for- 
•ter,    twenty-third 

r  the  well-known 
who,  hat  in  hand, 
jcognition  that  he 

iper,  how  did  you 
ot  by  the  hand  and 

The  Lady  of  The 
h  was  not  great,  I 
sae  daft  to  see  ye 
icendents  o'  Shem, 
[  my  hands." 
)u  from  that  tough 
me  that  The  Lady 
usiness  again?" 
•theless;  forasmuch 
"rae  Harrington  to 
the  marnin'  papers 
jth  of  two  or  three 
d.'    See  Matthew, 


Don  laughed,  for  ordinarily  Peter  inveighed  against  the 
secular  press  as  the  abomination  of  desolation  spoken  of  in 
Scripture,  and  this  citation  of  papers  as  evidence  of  truth  was 
something  new.  There  was,  however,  this  reason  for  the 
change  in  his  sentiments.  Nearly  all  the  details  published  in 
the  morning  papers  concerning  the  arrival  of  The  Lady  of  The 
Lake  were  furnished  to  the  reporters  by  Peter  himself.  The 
account  included  Don's  appearance  as  Grand  Keyman  upon 
the  roll  of  the  mysterious  club,  as  well  as  Peter's  singular 
experience  in  being  blown  to  sea  without  any  volitions  of  his 
own.  Having  furnished  the  information,  and  much  of  It  hav- 
ing personal  reference  to  himself,  Peter  waived  his  scruples 
and  purchased  a  copy  of  every  morning  paper  in  the  city  for 
future  reference.  He  now  laid  them  before  Don  as  the  infal- 
lible means  of  securing  the  knowledge  he  was  so  much  inter- 
ested in.  The  morning  papers  were  already  in  the  office,  but 
as  yet  had  not  been  scanned. 

Don  read  the  accounts  eagerly,  and  experienced  some  curi- 
ous feelings  when  one  of  the  reporters  observed :  "The  arrival 
of  the  weird  little  craft  in  the  city  where  Don  Donalds,  its 
former  Grand  Keyman,  has  become  so  well  known,  is  a  coinci- 
dence that  eclipses  the  inventions  of  fiction." 


I 


■;; 


i;;^AiEj>iat«»fe^ta»t^a^--^s»<ti»»Baa3t>"<iB»B'ie^ 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 


A   BRBATHING  SPELI.. 


Although  Peter  was  always  cleanly  in  his  habits,  he  was  not 
particular  as  to  the  fashion  of  his  garments  which,  when  he 
appeared  before  Don  were  a  medley  of  patches  and  colors. 
Don  found  it  difficult  to  convince  him  that  his  wardrobe  should 
be  changed  to  suit  the  latitude  of  Boston.  When,  however, 
he  gave  him  a  suit  of  Scotch  tweeds  his  natural  prejudices 
against  the  vanities  of  the  world  yielded  to  his  national  pride, 
and  he  came  out  of  the  dressing  room  looking  a  score  of  years 
younger  than  when  he  went  in. 

In  the  early  evening,  accompanied  by  Bert  and  guided  by 
Peter,  Don  boarded  the  derelict  which  lay  alongside  the  Lucy 
Ann  at  the  head  of  Long  Wharf.  The  first  thing  he  did  on 
entering  the  cabin  was  to  sit  down  in  The  Grand  Potentate's 
chair  of  office  and  give  himself  up  to  the  feelings  of  mingled 
sadness  and  satisfaction  that  came  upon  him  like  a  flood. 

"The  things  we  once  ran  after  are  difficult  to  run  away 
from,"  he  said  to  Bert,  musingly.  "In  one  form  or  another 
they  come  back  into  our  lives  so  vividly  that  the  past  seems 
to  be  far  more  real  than  the  present.  I  wonder  if  the  future 
will  fill  up  as  fast  with  the  ghosts  of  the  present,  as  the  present 
does  with  the  ghosts  of  the  past." 

In  explanation  of  both  his  meaning  and  his  sentiments  he 
went  on  and  gave  the  history  of  the  principal  objects  in  the 
cabin  and  of  their  association  with  episodes  in  his  boyish  life. 

(282) 


■  ■r^tatiiii 


f  ■ '  ijlf^fi'W'l'.i  '.>'y  ,11 ' 


is  habits,  he  was  not 
Its  which,  when  he 
patches  and  colors. 
his  wardrobe  should 
I.  When,  however, 
5  natural  prejudices 
0  his  national  pride, 
cing  a  score  of  years 

Bert  and  guided  by 
r  alongside  the  Lucy 
iirst  thing  he  did  on 
le  Grand  Potentate's 
;  feelings  of  mingled 
lim  like  a  flood, 
iifficult  to  run  away 
one  form  or  another 
r  that  the  past  seems 
wonder  if  the  future 
•resent,  as  the  present 

md  his  sentiments  he 
incipal  objects  in  the 
,des  in  his  boyish  life. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


283 


Bert  )istened  to  him  with  keen  curiosity,  but  the  grizzly  old 
Peter  listened  with  a  sympathy  quickened  and  deepened  by  the 
recollections  of  his  own  far-away  boyhood.  And  then,  think- 
ing of  his  interviews  with  Sir  Walter  Scott  upon  "The  brown 
hillside"  he  suddenly  bethought  him  of  the  words  he  had 
quoted  to  Don  under  the  apple  blossoms,  when  he  found  him 
poring  over  the  great  romancist's  air  castles.  Kci  remembered 
the  remainder  of  the  quotation  and  with  his  heart  exp  nding 
toward  the  lads  before  him,  he  suddenly  startled  them  by 
pathetically  reciting  these  words  in  unbroken  English : 

"Ah,  happy  boys!  such  feelings  pure, 
They  will  not,  cannot,  long  endure; 
Condemned  to  stem  the  world's  rude  tide, 
You  may  not  linger  by  the  side; 
For  Fate  shall  thrust  you  from  the  shore, 
And  passion  ply  the  sail  and  oar. 
Yet  cherish  the  remembrance  still, 
Of  the  lone  mountain  and  the  rill ; 
F"or  trust,  dear  boys,  the  time  will  come, 
When  fiercer  transports  shall  be  dumb. 
And  you  will  think  right  frequently, 
But,  well,  I  hope,  without  a  sigh, 
On  the  free  hours  that  we  have  spent 
Together  on  the  brown  hill's  bent." 

Don  was  affected  almost  to  tears  by  the  words  and  no  less 
by  Peter's  manner  in  reciting  them,  while  Bert,  choking  with 
undefinable  emotions,  to  relieve  himself,  turned  and  stood 
before  Barry's  painting  of  the  frightened  purser  of  the  man-of- 
war,  referred  to  in  the  earlier  pages  of  this  narrative.  Don 
explained  the  picture  but,  although  the  story  of  The  Cemetery 
Ghosts  of  Port  Latour  was  so  amusing,  in  itself  considered,  it 
somehow  forced  him  to  keep  in  mind  the  other  kind  of  ghosts 
he  had  just  been  thinking  of  so  pensively,  and  which  had  been 
so  vividly  reinforced  by  Peter's  quotation. 


i 


•r 


I 


!„-Mih 


L ,jlj"i  "ift'iT'tiiiitTnr'riwffiiinnwMiSiiTW'r'i  i '"if"i"["TiiTrT'Tiii~TiBn —  ^f>^.'K^^s^it^»jif»iiHmM-T!<<mAi^T^tms*Bt\HsKJ!iaMMiui'm 


SBC 


fUf '.'  'iv  n 


***^TWfj 


284 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


.»■•  I 


■s'  ( 


■Ki: 


I  -^i 


At  this  moment  Wilhelm  and  Werner  Vonberg  descended 
the  companionway,  followed  by  the  captain  and  owner  of  The 
Lucy  Ann.  The  brothers  having  become  greatly  interested  in 
the  story  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  given  in  the  papers,  and 
supplemented  by  Don  and  Peter's  accounts  during  the  earlier 
part  of  the  day,  had  agreed  to  meet  Don  on  board  in  the 
evening. 

Like  their  namesakes  in  Goethe's  great  story  of  Wilhelm 
Meister,  they  had  a  taste  for  art  and  immediately  became 
absorbed  in  Barry's  painting,  which,  instead  of  having  been 
carelessly  executed  because  designed  for  boys,  was  painted 
with  the  characteristic  skill  of  that  famous  artist,  whose  name 
was  not  unfamiliar  to  the  Vonberg  brothers. 

The  young  men  were  also  amat^eur  sailors,  passionately 
fond  of  the  sea  and  sea  sports,  and  their  vacations  were  invar- 
iably spent  in  the  vicinity  of  or  upon  the  sea.  The  origin, 
history,  size  and  shape  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  appealed  so 
strongly  to  their  fancy  that,  on  learning  that  the  captain  pro- 
posed to  sell  her  with  all  her  belongings,  including  the  picture, 
for  four  hundred  dollars,  they  gave  him  a  check  for  that 
amount.  They  said  to  Don  afterward  that  they  would 
willingly  have  paid  that  sum  for  the  picture  alone,  and  that  if 
they  so  desired  they  could  sell  it  at  a  price  far  in  advance  of 
that  amount. 

The  vessel  was  sent  to  dock  and  on  being  thoroughly 
inspected,  was  discovered  to  be  in  a  much  better  condition  than 
was  imagined,  having  been  built  of  selected  oak  throughout. 
In  less  than  a  month  she  was  again  afloat,  copper  bottomed 
and  so  transformed  inside  and  out  that  she  was  the  admiration 
of  all  who  saw  her.  The  rake  of  her  new  masts,  the  set  of  her 
sails,  the  completeness  of  her  rigging,,  the  curve  of  her  lines, 
the  beauty  of  her  figure-head,  the  sharpness  of  her  cutwater  all 


mA 


"^ifffmm 


mmr 


^^^r^    • m'^H     nil      m    i^iii 


AIll    CABTLE    DON 


285 


[onberg  descended 
land  owner  of  The 
reatly  interested  in 
|in  the  papers,  and 
during  the  earlier 
on  board  in  the 

story  of  Wilhelm 
imediately  became 
ad  of  having  been 
boys,  was  painted 
artist,  whose  name 
rs. 

ailors,  passionately 
icatlons  were  invar- 
e  sea.  The  origin, 
le  Lake  appealed  so 
liat  the  captain  pro- 
icluding  the  picture, 
1  a  check  for  that 
that  they  would 
re  alone,  and  that  if 
:e  far  in  advance  of 

I  being  thoroughly 
tetter  condition  than 
ed  oak  throughout. 
t,  copper  bottomed 

was  the  admiration 
masts,  the  set  of  her 

curve  of  her  lines, 
s  of  her  cutwater  all 


combined  to  give  her  the  "saucy"  appearance  which  sailors 
delight  to  recognize. 

Barry's  picture  occupied  the  place  of  honor  in  the  cabin, 
and  everything  of  the  former  furnishings  that  could  be  utilized 
for  oddity  or  convenience  was  retained.  Even  the  roster  of 
the  old  club  as  rcframed  and  glazed  and  hung  where  its 
elaborate  penmanship  and  mighty  titles  could  be  seen  to  the 
best  advantage. 

The  vacation  season  was  now  at  hand,  and  the  Vonberg 
brothers  were  keenly  anticipating  what  they  called  their  annual 
breathing  spell,  and  all  the  mere  keenly,  because  in  preparing 
for  their  own  pleasure  they  had  intended  to  share  it  with  others. 

When  "Old  Glory"  was  flung  to  the  breeze  announcing 
that  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  was  ready  to  begin  her  voyage 
along  the  coast,  she  had  the  following  persons  on  board:  For 
Captain  and  Sailing  Master,  Abner  Small,  an  experienced 
sailor  and  coaster;  for  Mate,  Wilhelm  Vonberg;  for  Sailors 
before  the  Mast,  Werner  Vonberg  and  Don  Donalds;  for 
Landlubber  and  Roustabout,  Bert  Williams;  for  Steward  and 
Cook,  Peter  Piper,  with  his  squirrel;  and  for  passengers  and 
guests,  Dorothy  Vonberg  and  Nora  Williams,  two  canaries 
and  a  maltese  kitten. 

When  The  Lady  went  down  the  harbor  before  a  fair  breeze 
with  all  sails  set,  and  with  everybody  on  deck,  Don,  who  could 
not  conceal  his  happiness,  said  to  Piper:  "Well,  Peter,  what 
do  you  think  of  this  for  a  shakeup  and  a  turnabout?" 

"I  hae  been  thinkin'  o'  my  sins  an'  transgressions,"  said  he, 
contritely.  And  then  he  added  significantly  by  way  of  explan- 
ation :  "I  hae  been  a  murmerin'  piper  a'  my  days,  an'  pickled 
peppers  hae  been  my  diet  frae  marnin'  till  night,  an'  frae  Janu- 
ary to  July.  The  past  hae  been  my  god,  an'  the  present  my 
fear  an*  torment.    To-day  I'm  that  happy  I  feel  sorry  for  my 


.;syKaaSK^?i<:i 


286 


AIR    CA8TI.H    DON 


:| 


sins.  For  why?  The  sound  o'  the  waters  an'  the  voice  o'  the 
wind  arc  sayin'  in  my  cars,  'Say  not  thou,  what  is  the  cause 
that  the  former  days  were  better  tlian  these?  for  thou  dost  not 
inquire  wisely  concerning  this.'  See  Ecclesiastes,  seven  and 
ten." 

"That  isa  confession  which  ought  to  clear  your  soul,"  said 
Don,  smiling  rcsponsivcl>  at  the  grim  humor  with  which  the 
Scot  chastised  himself. 

When  The  Lady  made  the  offing  and  laid  her  course  across 
the  bay  for  Cape  Cod.  the  rougher  water  drove  Nora  below 
laboring  under  sensations  she  hatl  never  experienced  before. 

"It  is  only  sea  sickness,  my  dear,"  said  Dorothy,  who,  hav- 
ing been  on  the  water  many  times  before,  was  not  affected. 
"It  will  not  last  long — a  day  perhaps,  and  then  you  will  be  as 
well  salted  as  I  am." 

There  arc  no  consolations  that  can  reach  a  seasick  person, 
and  Nora  felt  as  if  Dorothy's  "only"  was  adding  insult  to 
injury.  As  she  sank  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  slough  of 
despond  she  provoked  Bert's  laughter  by  faintly  saying:  "Oh, 
Bert,  I  do  wish  that  Miss  Agincourt  was  in  my  place;  she'd 
get  paid  up  for  all  her  ugliness  toward  Don  and  everybody  else 
that  she  doesn't  like.  What  have  I  done  that  I  should  be  so 
wretched?    Why  doesn't  Don  come  down  to  see  me?" 

"I  guess  you  are  being  punished  for  being  so  spiteful 
against  Miss  Agincorrt.  Don  can't  come  down  just  now;  he 
is  taking  his  watch  on  deck  and  his  trick  at  the  ;vheel  " 

"What  does  he  have  to  carry  his  watch  on  deck  for,  and 
why  does  he  meddle  with  its  wheel?  What  kind  of  a  trick  is 
he  playing  it?  What  will  Professor  Krasinski  say  if  he  knows 
that  he  is  tricking  that  gold  watch  he  gave  him?" 

"You  have  swallowed  a  convention  question  box;  I  don't 


n 


'  the  voice  o'  the 
M^hat  is  the  cause 

or  thou  dost  not 
iastes,  seven  and 

your  soul,"  said 
)r  with  which  the 

her  course  across 
Irove  Nora  below 
cperienccd  before, 
orothy,  who,  hav- 

was  not  affected, 
len  you  will  be  as 

1  a  seasick  person, 

>  adding  insult  to 
nto  the  slough  of 
itly  saying:  "Oh, 
n  my  place;  she'd 
ind  everybody  else 
liat  I  should  be  so 

>  see  me?" 

being  so  spiteful 
lown  just  now;  he 
the  ivheel  " 
1  on  deck  for,  and 
t  kind  of  a  trick  is 
iki  say  if  he  knows 
him?" 
stion  box;  I  don't 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


.f  WW  " 


■Tfw 


287 


wonder  yuu  feel  so  badly.    Hadn't  I  better  get  you  something 
else  to  eat?" 

"Oh,  Bert,  I  shi.ll  never  cat  again!  Why  doesn't  some- 
body sympathize  with  me?  It  will  be  awful  if  you  have  to 
throw  me  overboard.  Can't  you  stop  the  vessel  and  put  me 
ashore  and  save  my  life?" 

In  five  hours  from  that  time  Gipsy  was  on  deck  laughing 
at  herself  as  mirrored  by  Bert,  who  repeated  her  questions  and 
despairing  tones  and  manner  without  mercy,  and  all  the  more 
relentlessly  because  he  himself  was  as  much  exempted  from 
sea  sickness  as  if  he  had  been  born  on  the  ocean  wave. 

It  was  not  the  intention  of  the  voyagers  to  remain  at  sea 
over  night,  and  toward  evening  they  ran  into  Plymouth.  The 
next  morning  they  visited  Plymouth  Rock  and  waxed  enthusi- 
astic over  the  Pilgrim  Fathers. 

Suddenly  Gipsy  asked:  "How  do  they  know  that  this  is 
the  rock  on  which  the  Pilgrims  landed?" 

"Oh,  get  out!"  exclaimed  Bert  indignantly.  "Don't  ask 
questions  about  things  that  have  been  settled  for  all  time. ' 

"Well,  I  want  to  know  how  it  was  settled  that  this  is  the 
very  rock,"  she  persisted. 

Werner  Vonberg,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  colonial 
history,  said:  "It  is  a  reasonable  question,  that  should  be  rea- 
sonably answered.  In  1741  the  Pilgrim  Sons  had  so  little 
enthusiasm  or  so  little  faith  about  this  spot  that  they  were 
going  to  build  a  wharf  over  the  rock.  An  old  man  by  the 
name  of  Faunce,  who  was  in  his  ninety-iifth  year,  hearing  of 
the  proposal,  caused  himself  to  be  brought  three  miles  in  a 
chair  and  placed  upon  the  rock.  He  shed  tears  upon  it  and 
gave  his  benediction  to  it  as  he  bade  farewell  to  it.  There 
were  many  witnesses  of  the  scene,  and  he  assured  them  that  his 
father  had  again  and  again  declared  that  this  was  the  very  place 


Hi 


288 


AIR    OABTLE    DON 


where  the  Pilfjrims  landed.  His  words  had  so  much  weight 
that  the  people  forbade  the  building  of  the  wharf.  They 
renienibrrod  that  every  year  Elder  Taunce  was  in  the  habit  of 
celebrating;  the  ainiiversary  of  the  landing  by  placing  his  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren  on  the  rock  and  conversing  with  them 
about  their  forefathers.  And  hence,  after  the  old  man's  last 
visit,  they  determined  that  they  would  celebrate  Forefathers' 
Day  with  all  the  pomp  and  ceremony  they  could  muster." 

"Ilow  many  children  and  grandchildren  did  the  old  man 
have?"  asked  Nora,  glancing  at  the  rock  and  trying  to  calculate 
how  many  could  stand  upon  it  at  one  time. 

"I  don't  know,"  Werner  replied,  laughing  in  spite  of  the 
gravity  of  the  subject. 

"Well,  how  did  the  old  man  know  that  this  was  the  very 
rock?"  she  asked  again.  "Was  he  one  of  the  fathers,  and  did 
he  see  them  land?" 

"Of  course  not,  you  ninny  I"  exclaimed  Bert. 

"No,  he  was  not  one  of  the  Pilgrims,"  said  Werner;  "but 
it  is  said  that  his  father  knew  some  of  the  Pilgrims,  and  they 
told  the  story  of  the  landing.  So,  you  see  that  Faunce  had  it 
quite  direct." 

"Then  we  can't  swear  by  the  rock  for  a  certainty?" 

"No;  not  for  a  certainty." 

"That's  perfectly  dreadful!  Why  didn't  the  Pilgrims  cut 
something  into  the  rock  to  let  us  know  that  they  landed  here?" 

"I  guess  they  were  too  busy  about  other  things  to  think  of 
that,"  said  Werner,  with  assumed  seriousness. 

"Let  us  go  somewhere  else;  I  don't  believe  that  anybody 
knows  where  the  Pilgrims  landed,  and  we  are  humbugged 
about  this  rock  right  straight  along,  so  that  people  can  cover 
up  their  ignorance." 

"Say  the  Pilgrims  didn't  land  at  all,  and  done  with  it," 


d  so  much  weight 
the  wharf.  They 
\&i  in  the  habit  of 
»y  placing  his  chil- 
ivcrsing  with  them 
the  old  man's  last 
:brate  Forefathers' 
could  muster." 
n  did  the  old  man 
I  trying  to  calculate 

ing  in  spite  of  the 

t  this  was  the  very 
the  fathers,  and  did 

Bert. 

said  Werner;  "but 
Pilgrims,  and  they 
that  Faunce  had  it 

I  certainty?" 

I't  the  Pilgrims  cut 

t  they  landed  here?" 

;r  things  to  think  of 

ess. 

elieve  that  anybody 

we  are  humbugged 

lat  people  can  cover 

and  done  with  it," 


Allt    0A8TLB    DON 


289 


interrupted  Bert  with  impatience.  "History  has  to  begin 
somewhere,  and  the  history  of  The  Pilgrim  Fathers  must  begin 
with  this  rock."  Then,  after  a  short  pause,  f  xling  as  if  he  had 
swamped  all  his  confidence  in  mere  tradition,  and  to  cover  his 
retreat  he  added:     "Let's  go  to  Watson's  Hill." 

"We  wov.ld  better  go  to  Burying  Hill  first,"  suggested 
Werner  'that  is  near  here,  and  we  know  for  a  certainty  that 
many  of  the  Pilgrims  were  buried  there." 

The  celebrated  cemetery  lay  directly  back  of  the  town;  and 
after  ascending  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet,  they  stood 
where  so  many  of  the  Pilgrims  were  buried  during  the  first 
year  after  their  landing. 

Seeing  that  Don  walked  among  the  ancient  gravestones 
with  his  hat  oflf,  and  believing  that  she  was  really  walking  over 
the  ground  beneath  which  reposed  the  dust  of  the  venerated 
dead,  Gipsy  mused  in  silence.  But  when,  after  a  long  walk, 
they  reached  Watson's  Hill,  and  she  was  told  that  there  the 
first  Indian  Treaty  was  made,  she  again  voiced  her  curiosity. 
"Are  they  any  surer  of  this  place  than  they  were  of  Ply- 
mouth Rock?"  she  asked,  quite  humbly. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Werner  responded,  confidently.  "Plymouth 
Rock  is  settled  by  tradition  only,  but  this  is  settled  by  record. 
Miles  Standish  met  King  Massasoit  down  by  that  brook  you 
see  over  yonder,  and  brought  him  up  here  to  Governor  Carver. 
After  the  white  man  kissed  the  red  man,  they  drank,  as  it  is 
said,  'copious  draughts  of  strong  water,  and  then  made  the 
treaty.' " 

"Did  they  get  the  strong  water  from  that  brook  down 
there?  And  what  made  it  strong?  Was  there  anything  dead 
in  it?" 

"Don't  you  know  what  strong  water  is?"  asked  Werner, 


-rr- 


iJi.i.  I   nuia 


290 


\m    CASTLE    DON 


turning  on  hov  with  the  suspicion  that  she  was  trifling  with 
him  for  her  own  amusement. 

"No,  I  do  not.  I  have  lived  in  Boston  so  long  I  am  awfully 
ignorant.  I  am  going  to  try  and  learn  something  while  I  am 
out  on  this  trip." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Gipsy.  Strong  water  in  plain  lang- 
uage means  rum,"  said  Werner,  with  nuich  misgiving. 

"Rum!  Do  you  mean  to  tell  nic  that  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
drank  rum?"  she  asked,  her  face  the  picture  of  surprise  and 
horror, 

"Yes,  in  considerable  quantities.  They  landed  before 
Father  Matthew  got  here,  you  remember.  And  on  this  very 
hill  they  gave  rum  to  King  Massasoit  in  such  big  doses  that, 
as  the  books  say,  'he  sweat  a  long  time  after.'  " 

"What  (lid  they  want  to  make  him  sweat  for?" 

"Well,  you  know  that  the  Pilgrims  were  weak,  and  the 
Indians  were  strong.  And  probably  the  Pilgrims  wanted  the 
Indians  to  understand  that  if  they  did  the  Pilgrims  any  harm 
they  would  make  them  sweat  for  it  worse  than  the  rum  did. 
The  books  say  that  when  the  Pilgrims  first  landed,  they  fell  on 
their  knees  and  then  they  fell  on  the  aborigines." 

"What  did  they  fall  from?  And  how  did  the  Indians  hap- 
pen tc  be  under  them  when  the  Pilgrims  fell?" 

"  Werner  looked  at  Gipsy  in  amazement,  but  her  seriousness 
was  so  transparent  that  checking  his  risibilities,  he  replied: 
"The  historians  mean  that  when  the  Pilgrims  landed,  they  gave 
thanks  to  God  for  their  safety  and  then  began  to  fight  the 
Indians  to  get  possession  of  their  land. 

"Then  they  were  robbers  as  well  as  rum-drinkers  in  spite 
of  all  their  thanksgiving  and  prayers,  weren't  they?" 

"Oh,  no;  they  were  the  founds,  j  of  a  great  nation." 

"It's  a  pity  we  were  not  founded  by  somebody  else.     I  don't 


was  trifling  with 

long  I  am  awfully 
lething  while  I  am 

Iter  in  plain  lang- 
misgiving. 
le  Pilgrim  Fathers 
ire  of  surprise  and 

ley    landed   before 
And  on  this  very 

uch  big  doses  that, 

>  >> 

It  for?" 

rere  weak,  and  the 
'ilgrims  wanted  the 
Pilgrims  any  harm 
;  than  the  rum  did. 

landed,  they  fell  on 
ines." 

lid  the  Indians  hap- 
11?" 

,  but  her  seriousness 
iibilities,  he  replied: 
Tis  landed,  they  gave 

began  to  figiit  the 

um-drinkers  in  spite 
:n't  they?" 
jreat  nation." 
nebody  else.     I  don't 


•  ''  ,'-\m~'"'','"'""'^ufl!ff^ifllfnf>'!^"  WKi>r"fK'^i,M'^':.-'ir>\v,.i 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


-,*. 


1'  ■.»>,»is>fBpw'!.iii 


m 


want  to  hear  any  more  about  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  nor  Ply- 
mouth Rock,  either.  I  am  sorry  we  came  here.  Does  all 
history  pan  out  in  this  way?" 

"Gipsy,"  said  Bert,  severely,  "there  is  no  use  in  trying  to 
give  you  any  information.  You  make  a  hanging  noose  of 
every  piece  of  rope  that  is  thrown  to  you.  I  am  glad  that 
there  is  only  one  of  you  in  the  family.  If  there  was  another 
sister  like  you,  there  wouldn't  be  enough  of  me  left  to  be  a 
brother  to  either.  If  you  ever  get  married,  you  will  hang 
your  husband  on  interrogation  points  just  as  a  butcher  hangs 
meat  upon  shop-hooks.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself 
for  going  back  upon  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  v/hat  is  more, 
you  ought  to  know  that  it  is  the  deadliest  heresy  to  say  any- 
thing against  them.  If  Father  Taylor  knew  that  you  w^ere 
doing  such  a  thing,  he  would  discipline  you  as  soon  as  you  got 
home." 

Dorothy  had  listened  to  the  whole  conversation,  and 
although  she  was  amused  by  Gipsy's  simplicity,  she  respected 
her  sincerity  and  came  to  her  defence  against  her  brother  by 
saying:  "Gipsy  does  right  in  thinking  for  herself.  If  there 
were  more  like  her,  there  would  be  less  chafif  mixed  with  our 
wheat.  If  our  forefathers  had  had  her  for  one  of  their  for«;- 
mothers,  that  old  Chief  Sachem  Massasoit  would  never  have 
been  asked  to  sell  his  birthright  and  the  birthright  of  all  his 
people  for  a  mess  of — rum." 

"You  see  that  my  only  sister  is  a  good  deal  like  your  own, 
Bert,"  said  Werner,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "To  save  our- 
selves from  getting  into  any  more  trouble  about  the  Pilgrims, 
we  had  better  go  on  board  and  set  sail  for  Provincetown,  for 
although  the  Pilgrims  really  made  their  first  landing  at  Truro, 
we'll  find  no  trace  of  them  at  that  end  of  the  Cape." 

"There!"  exclaimed  Gipsy,  "what  do  you  say  to  that,  Bert? 


i 


I's^'t 


-j.^."a= 


•<!<w«i>il 


292 


AIR    GASTLE    DON 


■I  ; 


II 


What  do  you  say  to  Plymouth  Rock  now?    Werner  knows  all 
about  it.    Truro  is  the  place." 

"But  they  didn't  land  at  Truro  to  make  a  settlement;  they 
landed  there  to  give  the  women  a  chance  to  wash  their  clothes. 
They  meant  all  the  while  to  settle  on  the  Hudson  River,"  said 
Werner.  "It  was  at  Truro  where  their  first  governor,  William 
Bradford,  stepped  upon  an  Indian  deer  trap  and  was  caught 
by  the  leg  and  flung  into  the  air  by  a  bent  sapling." 

"Is  the  tree  still  there?"  asked  Gipsy,  sarcastically. 

"And  can  they  point  out  the  very  place  where  they  had 
their  washing  done?"  asked  Dorothy,  coming  to  Gipsy's  help. 
"We  didn't  get  any  pieces  of  Plymouth  Rock,  nor  any  other 
mementoes  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers;  but  if  we  went  to  Truro 
we  might  pick  up  some  fragments  of  soap  left  by  our  fore- 
mothers,  for  women  who  wash  almost  always  throw  away  their 
soap  with  their  suds.     Did  they  use  hard  or  soft  soap?" 

"They  must  have  soft-soaped  the  Indians  or  they  never 
would  have  been  allowed  to  land  with  their  rum-drinking  hus- 
bands," remarked  Gipsy.  "Why  didn't  the  Mayflower  go  up 
the  Hudson  as  she  originally  intended?  If  the  Pilgrims  had 
gone  there,  we  Massachusetts  people  would  have  been  saved 
a  good  deal  of  humbugging." 

"The  Indians  on  the  Hudson  were  too  numerous  and 
healthy.  Here  they  were  greatly  reduced  in  numbers  by  sick- 
ness and  plagues,  which,  the  Pilgrims  said,  had  been  sent  by 
Providence  to  make  way  for  them.  They  settled  here  to  keep 
from  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence,"  and  Werner  spoke  as 
gravely  as  a  professor.  He  went  on  to  say :  "We  might  drop 
into  Truro  on  the  way  down  to  Provincetown.  The  Pilgrims  I 
called  it  Cold  Harbor,  because  at  that  time  the  Pamet  River 
was  full  of  ice.    It  was  there  they  found  three  baskets  of  wheat, 


11 


Wernci-  knows  all 

a  settlement;  they 
wash  their  clothes, 
ludson  River,"  said 
t  governor,  William 
■?p  and  was  caught 
sapling."        '      './■' 
arcastically. 
ace  where  they  had 
ling  to  Gipsy's  help, 
iock,  nor  any  other 
if  we  went  to  Truro 
lap  left  by  our  fore- 
ays  throw  away  their 
or  soft  soap?" 
idians  or  they  never 
:ir  rum-drinking  hus- 
the  Mayflower  go  up 
If  the  Pilgrims  had 
)uld  have  been  saved 

;  too  numerous  and 
d  in  numbers  by  sick- 
aid,  had  been  sent  by 
y  settled  here  to  keep 
and  Werner  spoke  as 
ay:  "We  might  drop 
etown.  The  Pilgrims 
time  the  Pamet  River 
:hree  baskets  of  wheat. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


293 


a  bottle  of  oil  and  a  bag  of  beans  buried  under  one  of  the  sand- 
heaps." 

"Then  Boston  isn't  the  inventor  of  baked  beans!"  exclaimed 
Gipsy,  with  a  look  of  disappointment.  "Did  they  use  the  oil 
instead  of  pork?  And  did  they  always  bake  them  for  their 
Sunday  dinners  as  we  do?  If  the  Pilgrims  found  a  bag  of 
beans,  couldn't  we  find  a  pot  of  beans  under  the  same  sand- 
hills and  find  out  whether  the  Indians  used  oil  or  pork  to  bake 
with  them?" 

"There  is  no  telling  what  is  hidden  under  those  sand-hills," 
said  Wilhelm.  "In  levelling  one  of  them  not  long  ago  the 
laborers  found  a  lot  of  ice  which  gave  evidence  of  having  been 
buried  under  the  sand  a  great  many  years.  If  the  Indians  used 
beans  as  we  Boston  people  do,  I  see  no  reason  why  they  should 
not  have  had  ice  cream  also.  And  as  they  had  no  cows  to  give 
cream,  they  probably  used  cod-liver  oil  instead.  But  it  is  time 
for  us  to  go  on  board  again." 


'Sxiii 


ill  . 

if!- 


i-i.  1^1.  :>,.<)  1^  I 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 


AN  SNI.ARGEMBNT  OP  THB   H9ART. 

When  they  reached  the  offing  the  wind  was  strong  and 
gusty,  and  there  was  considerable  sea  running,  yet,  under 
single  reefs,  The  Lady  shook  her  head  at  the  water  and  kept 
her  decks  as  dry  as  an  oven.  When  off  Provincetov/n  the 
wind  veered  ahead  and  while  they  were  beating  into  port,  they 
made  their  tacks  in  a  rainstorm  and  in  the  company  of  scores 
of  vessels  that  were  also  seeking  a  harbor  fcr  the  night  or  till 
such  time  as  they  could  double  the  Cape  with  safety. 

When  they  arose  in  the  morning  the  capacious  harbor  was 
a  forest  of  masts,  and  the  dark  hulls  presented  a  view  of  almost 
every  kind  of  shipping,  from  small  craft  like  The  Lady,  up  to 
the  majest'c  full-rigged  ships  whose  complicated  rigging  and 
numerous,  spars  and  yardarms  formed  a  dark  network  against 
the  dull  leaden  sky.  The  low  dunes  on  shore  punctuated  a 
landscape  that  was  so  sandy  and  destitute  of  vegetation  that 
Nora  said  it  was  as  bald-headed  as  William  Lloyd  Garrison. 

"What  can  they  raise  in  such  a  place  as  that?"  she  asked 
contemptuously. 

"Church  steeples  and  school  towers,  as  you  can  see  for 
yourself,"  said  Werner,"  and  brainy  men  and  women  capable 
of  making  their  way  in  any  part  of  the  world.  The  landscape 
may  be  bald,  as  you  say,  but  the  minds  of  the  people  who  live 
here  are  not;  they  are  as  fruitful  of  ideas  as  Garrison's 
intellect." 

(294) 


r  t 


ir'^^/;;<.^^'^'ci^.-:H^-^'^=:5A'''«.'riy'ic^v'- 


^--:iS^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


295 


SART. 

d  was  strong  and 
inning,  yet,  under 
the  water  and  kept 

Provincetov/n  the 
ting  into  port,  they 

company  of  scores 
kr  the  night  or  till 
vith  safety, 
pacious  harbor  was 
ted  a  view  of  almost 
ke  The  Lady,  up  to 
)licated  rigging  and 
ark  network  against 
shore  punctuated  a 
e  of  vegetation  that 
am  Lloyd  Garrison, 
as  that?"  she  asked 

as  you  can  see  for 

and  women  capable 

)rld.     The  landscape 

the  people  who  live 

ideas  as  Garrison's 


"Were  you  born  here?"  she  asked  again. 

"Why,  no.     What  made  you  think  that?" 

"Because  you  know  so  mucli." 

"I  was  born  in  Boston." 

"So  was  I ;  but  I  might  as  well  have  been  born  in  Africa,  I 
am  so  ignorant;  ignorant  even  of  the  very  State  in  which  1 
live." 

"Yet  you  are  picking  up  so  rapidly  that  by,  the  time  you 
get  to  be  as  venerable  as  I,  you  will  know  vastly  more  than 
I  do." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"I  dare  not  tell  you,  lest  you  should  begin  to  ask  me  to  give 
you  some  personal  recollections  of  Noah  and  his  family.  You 
know  that  one's  age  is  not  to  be  reckoned  from  the  day  he  was 
born,  but  from  the  things  he  has  learned.  To  tell  the  truth,  1 
feel  as  though  I  had  lived  on  this  old  globe  several  thousand 
years." 

"That  is  because  you  read  so  much  history.  Don  says 
your  library  is  full  of  historical  books.  I  should  think  it  would 
make  any  one  feel  old  to  be  reading  about  dead  people  so 
much.  But  aren't  you  going  to  let  us  go  on  shore  this 
morning?" 

"Yes;  the  boat  is  alongside  now  waiting  for  us.  You  must 
take  oflf  those  slippers,  and  put  on  high  shoes,  for  the  sand  is 
deep  in  Provincetown." 

When  they  landed  they  walked  on  creaking  plank  side- 
walks, and  over  crossings  of  sand-drifts.  It  was  grit,  grit 
everywhere.  Yet  there  were  handsome  houses  in  the  scatter- 
ing town,  and  public  buildings  that  would  not  have  been  out  of 
place  in  Boston.  The  people  whom  they  met  instead  of 
appearing  as  though  they  had  rusted  because  of  their  isolation 
and  constant  exposure  to  salt  air,  looked  as  though  they  had 


rj 


;^imi(.- 


296 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


used  the  sand  about  them  to  keep  themselves  burnished  to  the 
highest  degree.  Indeed,  what  with  their  own  seamen  who 
sailed  unto  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  and  the  shipping 
that  came  into  their  port  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  they  were 
all  as  wide-awake  as  if  they  had  done  nothing  but  sail  the  seas 
from  the  beginning  of  their  existence.  And  the  smallest 
urchin  who  stood  on  the  street  corner,  if  spoken  to,  was  more 
than  likely  to  reply  in  nautical  terms  full  of  allusions  to  ship- 
ping and  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  as  well.  The  seafaring  men 
who  waddled  through  the  sandy  thoroughfares  in  great  num- 
bers, with  the  free  manners  of  high  spirits,  added  to  the  wide- 
awake appearance  of  the  population. 

"Why  should  people  want  to  settle  in  such  a  place  as  this?" 
asked  Dorothy,  glancing  discontentedly  over  the  sandy  land- 
scape. 

"Cape  Cod  was  built  in  the  ocean  to  give  Massachusetts  a 
handy  place  to  fish  from,  and  there  were  some  people  in  the 
olden  times  who  had  sense  enough  to  appreciate  what  had  been 
done  for  them.  Here,  they  are  in  the  very  midst  of  codfish- 
dom  and  whaledom,  not  to  say  anything  of  the  smaller  fry  that 
can  be  tossed  from  the  water  upon  the  gridiron  or  into  the 
frying  pan  whenever  they  are  wanted.  Breathing  so  much  salt 
air,  eating  so  much  fish  and  smelling  so  many  fishy  odors  are 
among  the  things  that  have  made  the  people  so  brainy  and 
intellectual. 

"To  keep  the  ministers  up  to  the  proper  intellectual  stand- 
ard, they  used  to  pay  the  greater  part  of  their  salary  in  fish, 
and  to  increase  their  faith  in  Providence,  they  were  allowed  a 
part  of  every  whale  that  came  on  shore.  If  one  of  these  big 
fish  happened  to  come  ashore  on  Sunday  during  sermon  time, 
the  minister  didn't  stop  to  pronounce  the  benediction,  but  ran 


■iBsa 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


297 


burnished  to  the 
own  seamen  who 
and  the  shipping 
world,  they  were 
g  but  sail  the  seas 
And  the  smallest 
oken  to,  was  more 
■  allusions  to  ship- 
The  seafaring  men 
ires  in  great  num- 
added  to  the  wide- 

ch  a  place  as  this?" 
'er  the  sandy  land- 

ve  Massachusetts  a 
some  people  in  the 
ciate  what  had  been 
•y  midst  of  codfish- 
the  smaller  fry  that 
gridiron  or  into  the 
sathing  so  much  salt 
lany  fishy  odors  are 
lople  so  brainy  and 

IV  intellectual  stand- 
their  salary  in  fish, 
they  were  allowed  a 
If  one  of  these  big 
during  sermon  time, 
benediction,  but  ran 


a  race  with  the  congregation  to  the  water-side  to  make  sure  of 
getting  what  the  Lord  had  sent  for  their  benefit." 

"1  don'i  believe  it!"  exclaimed  Gipsy,  very  bluntly,  for  she 
was  set  for  the  defence  of  the  ministry. 

"I  know  that  it  seems  like  a  whaling  big  story,  but  it  is  set 
down  in  the  books,  and  what  is  in  the  books  cannot  be  disbe- 
lieved without  committing  heresy.  There  is  an  old  minister 
living  he;:e  now  who,  in  his  preaching  days,  was  pastor  of  the 
Congregational  Church.  One  Sunday  when  he  had  just 
reached  the  sixth  of  the  fourteen  heads  of  his  sermon,  a  man 
rushed  to  the  door  and  shouted  that  a  whale  had  grounded  on 
the  south  shore.  The  minister  said,  'Beloved,  let  us  make  sure 
of  the  whale  now,  the  remainder  of  the  sermon  is  so  well 
pickled  it  will  keep  for  another  time.'  '    . 

"They  got  large  quantities  of  oil  from  that  whale's  blubber, 
and  the  preacher  was  so  well  satisfied  with  his  share  that  the 
following  Sunday,  instead  of  giving  them  the  other  eight  heads 
of  the  interrupted  sermon,  he  gave  them  a  spick-span  new  one 
directly  out  of  his  own  head  upon  the  text,  'They  shall  suck  of 
the  abundance  of  the  seas,  and  of  the  treasures  hid  in  the 
sands.'  He  described  all  the  kinds  of  fish  that  swim  about 
Cape  Cod,  and  all  the  varieties  of  clams  that  are  hid  in  the 
sands  and  mud-fjats.  Being  very  fond  of  clam  chowder,  he 
was  especially  eloquent,  while  preaching,  concerning  the  treas- 
ures hid  in  the  sand.  Nevertheless  two  of  his  deacons  com- 
plained that  the  sermon  was  two  hours  longer  than  it  needed 
to  have  been,  and  they  said  it  smacked  so  strongly  of  fish  and 
clams,  that  it  made  them  feel  fishy  and  clammy  all  over.  They 
thought  the  church  ought  to  have  a  pastor  who  knew  more 
about  the  New  Jerusalem  than  he  did  about  Cape  Cod,  and 
they  tried  to  get  up  a  faction  that  would  assist  them  in  securing 
a  more  spiritually  minded  minister.     Notwithstanding  the  dea- 


wmhimmaitt^tMAmnMl^m 


n 


mmm 


mtm 


298 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


1 


1    ! 

;4 


cons'  pious  efforts,  the  preacher  remained  pastor  thirty  years 
after  the  death  of  one  of  them  and  twenty-two  years  after  the 
death  of  the  other.  And  he  is  now  maintaining  a  vigorous  ohi 
age  upon  the  remembrance  of  his  triumph  over  the  rams  of  his 
flock." 

"Did  he  get  rich  off  of  the  dead  whales  that  came  on  shore 
on  Sunday?"  asked  Gipsy,  with  great  interest. 

"Not  very;  if  we  may  judge  from  the  looks  of  his  cottage 
where  he  now  lives  with  his  wife,  and  which  we  passed  on  our 
way  up." 

"I^et's  come  ashore  to-night  ?.nd  serenade  him?"  suggested 
Dorothy,  with  lively  sympathy.  "A  preacher  that  can  survive 
two  contrary  deacons  as  long  as  he  did,  ought  to  be  noticed." 

The  suggestion  was  adopted  with  enthusiasm,  but  its  scope 
was  much  enlarged.  They  were  all  good  singers,  and  music 
was  one  of  their  chief  divertisements.  The  evening  was  clear 
and  still,  and  a  high  full  moon  encouraged  their  purpose.  The 
actors'  wardrobe  still  remained  on  board  of  The  Lady.  After 
dressing  themselves  in  the  most  grotesque  robings,  they  could 
find,  they  rowed  among  the  fleet,  where  their  songs  were 
received  with  round  after  round  of  cheers.  The  tars  that  were 
not  members  of  secret  fraternities  supposed  they  were  being 
serenaded  by  a  delegation  of  Masons  or  Odd  Fellows  from  the 
shore.  The  tinsel  of  the  robes  glittered  so  brightly  in  the 
moonlight  that  the  ornaments  were  supposed  to  be  of  silver 
and  gold,  while  the  cut  glass  jewels  were  taken  for  gems  of 
the  first  water. 

On  landing,  they  were  followed  by  a  crowd  to  the  old  min- 
ister's cottage.  Two  of  their  songs  were  merry,  two  senti- 
mental and  the  other  two,  solemn.  Don  presented  the  old 
pastor  with  ten  dollars  from  his  trust  fund,  and  the  Vonberg 
brothers  added  twenty  more  from  their  private  purse.    The 


»awg|gmq>aw>Mw  'ifc'j 


'.r^.  ,!K-:g»j»t'« 


<S^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


299 


aslor  thirty  years 
vo  years  after  the 
ng  a  vigorous  old 
er  the  rams  of  his 

liat  came  on  shore 

est. 

loks  of  his  cottage 

I  we  passed  on  our 

le  him?"  suggested 
er  that  can  survive 
ght  to  be  noticed." 
iiasm,  but  its  scope 
singers,  and  music 
;  evening  was  clear 
heir  purpose.    The 
f  The  Lady.    After 
robings,  they  could 
:  their  songs  were 

The  tars  that  were 
ed  they  were  being 
dd  Fellows  from  the 

so  brightly  in  the 
osed  to  be  of  silver 
e  taken  for  gems  of 

rowd  to  the  old  min- 
•e  merry,  two  senti- 
in  presented  the  old 
id,  and  the  Vonberg 
private  purse.    The 


recipient  of  their  generosity  was  so  moved  that  he  felt  himself 
under  obligations  to  say  something  adequately  appreciative  of 
their  courtesies.  He  said  that  he  was  so  deaf  he  could  not 
hear  nv.ich  of  their  singing,  but  he  had  sight  enough  left  to  be 
much  edified  by  their  brilliant  appearance,  and  there  was  life 
enough  left  in  his  heart  to  enable  him  to  feel  profoundly  grate- 
ful to  them  for  their  unexpected  kindness  toward  him.  Then 
in  a  half  humorous,  half  pathetic  way,  he  concluded  by  saying 
that,  although  he  had  nothing  in  the  house  to  offer  them  by 
way  of  a  collation,  he  could  at  least  dismiss  them  with  the  best 
of  bis  pulpit  benedictions.  He  accordingly  pronounced  the 
longest  one  he  could  remember. 

The  next  morning  there  was  a  ringing  chorus  of  yo-heavos, 
a  resounding  clatter  of  chain-cables  and  a  magnificent  flutter- 
ing of  white  canvas,  when  the  fleet  of  ninety-three  vessels  of 
all  shapes  and  sizes  made  ready  to  round  the  Cape.  Although 
they  all  left  within  a  short  time  of  each  other,  the  differences 
in  their  speed  soon  scattered  them  into  a  long  line  upon  the 
ocean  blue.  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  proved  to  be  the  smallest, 
swiftest  and  proudest  vessel  of  the  whole  fleet.  Captain  Small 
was  so  elated  by  the  way  she  showed  her  heels  and  took  the 
lead,  that  he  ordered  up  every  inch  of  bunting  she  possessed. 
At  noon  he  left  the  other  vessels  and  laid  his  course  toward  a 
low  blue  island  that  is  about  thirty  miles  from  the  mainland. 

"What  country  is  that?"  asked  Gipsy,  when  the  steeples  and 
houses  began  to  loom  against  the  sky. 

"That  isn't  any  country  at  all,"  replied  Werner;  "that  is 
Nantucket.     Have  you  never  heard  of  it  before?" 

"Nantucket!  Why,  that  is  my  father's  birth  place!"  she 
exclaimed  with  delight.  "I  would  rather  go  there  than  to  go 
to  Jeru-salem.  And  I  would  rather  have  been  born  there  than 
in  Boston." 


!%* 


^-iSj'  i^^aaibi^H- 


■  «*tH«ii»J«a6'«»i»r:i5»««Srr..  iOuiuK  i;m;3iSse!i-ii/iS!i.-tr^:^ixji^.mseiiJm 


twfBMfWWl  illi^li 


800 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


"Why?"  asked  Werner,  with  interest. 

"Because — Oh,  because;  you  know!"  she  replied  flounder- 
ingly. 

"Because  it  is  so  far  removed  from  the  mainland  and  its 
hypocrisies  and  follies  that  its  distance  lends  enchantment  to 
the  view?"  said  Werner,  coming  to  her  relief. 

"Of  course,  that's  it  exactly!"  she  retorted  sarcastically. 

The  celebrated  old  whaling  town  was  not  at  that  time  the 
busy  place  it  had  formerly  been,  nor  was  it  yet  the  fashionable 
resort  it  was  destined  to  become.  It  seemed  to  be  in  the  last 
stages  of  abandonment  and  decay.  Costly  and  attractive 
houses-  were  sold  for  a  mere  song,  and  not  a  few  of  them  were 
being  removed  piecemeal  to  the  mainland.  Old  whaling  ships 
saturated  with  oil  and  redolent  of  blubber  and  scraps — ships 
that  had  voyaged  to  the  far  Pacific  and  had  made  comfortable 
fortunes  for  their  former  owners,  were  now  ignobly  rotting  at 
their  docks.  Warehouses  and  stores  that  were  once  packed 
with  goods  of  great  value  were  given  up  to  the  reign  of  rats 
and  mice.  Arrivals,  once  so  numerous,  were  now  so  seldom 
witnessed  that  when  The  Lady  of  "^he  Lake  crossed  the  historic 
sandbar  and  tied  up  to  the  dock,  half  the  juveniles  of  the  town 
rushed  pell  mell  to  see  her.  Not  a  few  of  the  older  people  of 
both  sexes  trailed  down  after  them  and  in  their  quaintly  quiet 
way,  welcomed  the  visitors  to  their  "island  home."  On  its 
becoming  known  that  Gipsy  and  her  brother  were  of  island 
stock,  all  the  Williamses  on  the  island  claimed  relationship, 
and  thenceforth  the  latchstring  was  out  to  the  whole  party  to 
go  and  come  as  they  pleased.  Receptions  followed  in  such 
swift  succession  that  it  became  a  relief  to  the  young  people  to 
get  on  board  again.  But  these  receptions  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  functions  that  pass  under  the  same  name  in 
the  later  phases  of  society.    Our  receptions  are  occasions  on 


"W^^ 


AlH    CASTLE    DON 


801 


replied  flounder- 

nainland  and  its 
enchantment  to 

sarcastically, 
at  that  time  the 
;t  the  fashionable 
to  be  in  the  last 
y  and  attractive 
few  of  them  were 
)ld  whaling  ships 
nd  scraps — ships 
nade  comfortable 
gnobly  rotting  at 
fere  once  packed 
the  reign  of  rats 
e  now  so  seldom 
•ossed  the  historic 
iniles  of  the  town 
le  older  people  of 
eir  quaintly  quiet 
home."  On  its 
er  were  of  island 
med  relationship, 
le  whole  party  to 
followed  in  such 
:  young  people  to 
must  not  be  con- 
the  same  name  in 
are  occasions  on 


which  people  promiscuously  "gather,  gabble,  giggle,  gobble 
and  git."  They  are  a  sort  of  annual  washing  in  which  the 
guests  allow  the  hostess  to  make  use  of  them  as  the  soap  by 
which  she  washes  her  hands  of  her  annual  social  obligations. 
After  "the  social  event"  she  goes  to  bed  so  much  fatigued  that, 
like  other  washer-women,  she  dreams  the  whole  night  long  of 
washing-boards  and  suds,  and  is  haunted  by  the  fear  lest  the 
clothes-line  should  show  a  deficiency  in  the  final  listing.  An 
old-time  Nantucket  reception  was  characterized  by  the  grace 
of  cordiality,  the  refinement  of  sincerity,  the  charm  of  simplic- 
ity and  the  spontaneousness  of  nature.  It  was  a  spring  bub- 
bling from  the  heart  and  not  a  system  of  Holly  water  works  by 
which  courtesy  is  forced  through  the  iron  or  leaden  pipes  of 
fashionable  customs. 

Even  the  quakers,  those  saints  in  drab,  whose  ancestors 
were  whipped  at  the  tails  of  the  carts  of  our  forefathers  for 
choosing  to  serve  God  in  their  own  way,  did  all  they  could  to 
add  pleasure  to  the  stay  of  the  young  visitors. 

Bert,  who  was  a  good  violinist,  went  into  a  shop  of  one  of 
these  quaint  folk  and  enquired  for  a  piece  of  rosin.  "Not  a 
very  large  piece,"  he  said,  "for  I  only  want  to  rosin  my  fiddle- 
bow." 

"Thy  fiddle-bow!"  exclaimed  the  quaker  shop-keeper,  with 
hesitation  if  not  displeasure.  "I  cannot  sell  thee  rosin  for  such 
a  purpose.  But  there  it  is,"  he  smilingly  added  as  he  placed  a 
conveniently  sized  piece  upon  the  counter;  "if  thee  chosest  to 
take  it  for  nothing,  thee  will  be  welcome  to  the  responsibility." 

"It  was  the  most  delicate  way  of  getting  around  an  incon- 
veniently conscientious  corner  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  Bert, 
relating  the  incident  when  he  returned  to  The  Lady.  "And 
he  looked  at  me  so  slyly  from  his  great  eyes,  that  I  had  to  put 
my  hand  to  my  mouth  to  keep  from  giggling  in  his  face.    He 


J. 


imi-imsatsamsmMmsiiai^msmaaimsimsi. 


Vi     -t" ' 


r 


^sxwmmtmi^ 


I; 

r 


802 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


said  'come  again'  in  such  a  kindly  way  that  I  wanted  to  sit 
down  and  liavc  a  long  chat  with  him.  I  wonder  what  he 
would  say  if  he  were  to  hear  me  scraping  off  some  of  those  jig 
tunes  I  play.  Gipsy  comes  at  me  like  a  porcupine  when  I 
'ny  them.  He  prohahly  would  rebuke  me  solemnly  with  his 
mouth,  and  at  the  same  time  laugh  at  nic  with  his  eyes." 

An  old  song  which  relates  the  experiences  of  two  young 
lovers  says:  "They  loved  one  another  for  they'd  nothing  else 
to  do."  Perhaps  a  somewhat  similar  reason  accounted  for  the 
abounding  hospitality  of  the  old  time  Nantucketer,  There 
seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  do  in  the  way  of  employment  or 
amusement,  and  hence,  for  the  benefit  of  the  young  visitors, 
there  were  clam-bakes  and  chowders,  codfish  frys  and  bluchsh 
feasts,  catboat  trips  along  the  shores,  and  horsecart  excursions 
upon  the  moors  and  to  the  wild  surf  beach  at  seven  mile 
Sconset.  Curiosities  and  bric-a-brac,  shells  and  whale-teeth 
were  given  to  the  guests  in  such  generous  profusion  that  the 
cabin  of  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  looked  like  a  small  museum. 
Alas  for  the  sad  transformations  wrought  by  time  and  civil- 
ization. There  is  a  new  generation  at  Nantucket  now.  A 
change  has  come  over  the  spirit  of  its  dreams  since  it  became 
a  watering  place  and  a  resort  for  city  people.  A  stranger 
happening  upon  its  shores  now  is  charged  a  nickel  for  a  yes  or 
no,  a  dime  for  a  direction  of  any  kind,  a  quarter  for  a  step  or 
two  of  guidance,  a  half  dollar  for  the  lifting  of  a  trunk,  a  dollar 
for  an  hour  of  time,  and  the  portable  curiosities  that  are  exhib- 
ited for  sale  are  held  at  church-fair  prices.  Go  to  Nantucket 
if  you  want  to  see  something  new — or  rather,  something  old — 
under  the  sun,  but  ^o  prepared  to  be  estimated  by  the  fatness 
of  your  pocket  book  and  by  the  amount  of  squeezing  you  can 
undergo.  The  ancient  glory  of  Nantucket  has  gone  the  way 
of  all  the  e.Tth. 


I  wanted  to  sit 

wonder  what  he 

some  of  tliosc  jig 

jorcupinc  when  I 

lOlcmnly  with  his 

th  his  eyes." 

CCS  of  two  young 

hey'd  nothing  else 

accounted  for  the 

ntuckcter.    There 

of  employment  or 

he  young  visitors, 

h  frys  and  bUtcfish 

jrsecart  excursions 

ach  at  seven  mile 

Is  and  whale-teeth 

profusion  that  the 

e  a  small  museum. 

It  by  time  and  civil- 

lantucket  now.    A 

ms  since  it  became 

cople,     A  stranger 

1  nickel  for  a  yes  or 

uarter  for  a  step  or 

of  a  trunk,  a  dollar 

ities  that  are  exhib- 

Go  to  Nantucket 

er,  something  old — 

iiated  by  the  fatness 

[  squeezing  you  can 

t  has  gone  the  way 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


808 


It  was  in  vain  that  tlie  Vonhergs  protested  tliat  they  were 
only  clothiers,  and  that  Don  told  them  he  lived  in  an  attic,  and 
that  Hert  avowed  that  his  mother  kept  a  boarding  house,  and 
that  the  attention  they  were  receiving  was  altogether  dispro- 
portionate to  their  rank  and  circumstances.  They  were  well- 
bred  young  people  loving  the  sea  which  held  the  island  in  its 
embrace,  and  they  practiced  the  sailing  art  by  which  so  many 
Nantucketers  had  circumnavigated  the  globe,  and  this  was 
recommendation  enough  for  Nantucket  society  which,  by  the 
way,  was  famous  for  its  intelligence  and  refinement  as  it  was 
for  its  warmth  and  simplicity. 

The  United  States  mail  reached  the  island  when  weather 
permitted.  In  winter,  weeks  passed  before  any  tidings  were 
received  from  the  outside  world.  Boston  papers  arrived  in 
bunches  and  were  as  scrupulously  preserved  as  if  they  were 
sacred  writings.  The  "Nantucket  Metropolitan"  reproduced 
the  Boston  notice  of  the  departure  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake, 
and  the  "Transcript's"  announcement  that  she  carried  the 
Grand  Keyman  of  the  new  club  which  had  taken  the  place  of  the 
old  one.  Withal,  there  were  quotations  from  Boston  papers 
containing  other  items  concerning  Don  and  his  friends.  All 
Nantucket  began  to  search  its  old  files  for  matter  referring  to 
Don's  adventures  and  experiences,  and  they  so  pieced  the  inci- 
dents together  that  the  whole  island  was  agog  with  the  idea 
that  they  were  "entertaining  angels  unawares." 

"We  must  get  out  of  this  as  soon  as  possible,"  said  Don 
when  the  old  news  had  taken  a  fresh  start  in  Nantucket  circles 
and  was  producing  an  additional  and  an  intensified  round  of 
festivities  and  civilities.  When  Nora  asked  why  they  should 
get  out,  his  reply  was :  "We  arc  getting  altogether  too  much 
cream  for  the  amount  of  milk  we  carry  In  our  pans." 

The  wharf  was  crowded  when  the  vessel  cast  off  her  lines, 


>■ 


I 


Kf 


I''    '■■^'ti!u2 


tarn 


304 


AlE   OASTLB    DON 


and  after  Nora  had  almost  dislocated  her  arms  wavmg  her 
adieus  to  the  inhabitants  of  her  father's  birthplace,  she  said  to 
those  around  her:  "Nantucket  has  given  me  such  an  enlarge- 
ment of  the  heart  that  hereafter  Boston  will  be  too  small  to 
hold  me." 


mnmm^mm^'^f^ 


•■'-•  ff''..s,!{3-'',yi'.  ■'.  y%.'.'ii!"!^''!''"' 


I  j»i^u,  i|w|KjW 


•  arms  waving  her 
thplace,  she  said  to 
ne  such  an  enlarge- 
irill  be  too  small  to 


CHAPTER   XXX. 


AS  THEY  SAILED,    AS  THEY  SAILED. 

So  runs  the  refrain  of  one  of  the  old  sonrs  that  celebrated 
the  doings  of  Captain  Kidd  and  his  pirates  bad  and  bold.  And 
so  ran  the  refrain  of  tht  song  of  memory  when  the  participants 
in  the  trip  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  began  to  wrinkle  up  under 
the  too  familiar  touch  of  Old  Father  Time."  Those  remote 
days  which  seem  to  be  as  far  away  as  the  days  of  Eden  formed 
the  golden  age  of  their  existence. 

As  they  sailed  out  of  Nantucket  into  Martha's  Vineyard 
Sound,  they  found  themselves  in  the  company  of  more  than 
a  hundred  coasters. 

And  as  they  sailed  over  the  glittering  waters,  gently 
rising  and  falling  with  the  swell  of  the  sea,  and  slightly  careen- 
ing tothepush  of  the  wind.and  gradually  sighting  the  blue  coast 
line  of  the  southern  coast  of  Cape  Cod  and  the  northern  one 
of  Martha's  Vineyard,  Dorothy  and  Dot.,  and  Nora  and  Bert 
experienced  such  an  elevation  of  feeling  that  the  enthusiasm  of 
their  language  exhausted  all  the  superlatives  at  their  command. 

Donny,  the  squirrel,  had  the  freedom  of  the  Jeck  wiih  the 
rest  of  the  passengers,  and,  delighting  in  th^  clear  sunlight 
and  bracing  breeze  he  leaped  from  the  companionway  to  the 
mainboom  where,  working  his  way  to  the  Ihroat-rope  of  the 
mainsail,  he  scampered  up  the  sail,  nor  stopped  until  he 
reached  the  crosstree,  and,  steadying  himself  by  the  topmast 
stay,  flipped  his  tail  in  triumphant  glee,  notwithstanding  the 

(305) 


..    ,.,.^v^-.»-,v-.-ai^anq.-jwi^|^.«^;«jgn.n.L-v.'..i^.^.-i.K..oij...^^.  aMLJt.j.i^^:^.-.^ 


306 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


I    : 


anxious  glances  of  his  friends  below.  With  such  transcendent 
things  as  masts  and  ropes  within  reach,  he  was  no  longer 
dependent  upon  such  puny  conveniences  as  passenger-legs  for 
climbing  facilities.  While  those  below  were  ventilating  their 
knowledge  of  Captain  Kidd  and  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  and 
Admiral  Drake  and  Admiral  Frobisher  and  other  warriors  of 
ihe  sea,  and  were  growing  romantic  over  Captain  Cook,  the 
great  circumnavigator,  and  Columbus,  the  greater  discoverer 
of  America,  Donny  in  his  lofty  lookout  held  his  peace,  for  the 
gentle  swaying  of  the  mast  set  him  to  thinking  of  the  trees  of 
the  forest  and  of  the  nstling  songs  of  the  woods  and  streams. 
And  truth  to  say,  some  of  his  thoughts,  like  those  described 
by  the  poet  Wordsworth,  were  "too  deep  for  tears."  Yet,  if  he 
had  been  in  the  woods  some  fool  of  a  brainless  boy  at  the 
butt  of  a  gun  might  have  been  aiming  its  destructive  muzzle  at 
him  for  the  sake  of  amusing  a  mind  too  mendicantly  poor  for 
an  infirmary,  or  too  idiotically  weak  for  an  insane  asylum. 

All  night  long  they  sailed  in  the  entrancing  moonlight. 
Not  till  'the  wee  sma'  hours'  began  to  make  their  eyelids  heavy 
did  they  cease  to  watch  the  lights  along  the  shore,  and  those 
also  that  glimmered  from  the  riggings  of  the  fleet  of  coasters. 
But  for  the  dark  lines  of  the  coast  which  served  to  anchor 
them  to  reality,  the  white  spec:  -i-  .sails  of  the  vessels  would 
have  made  them  feel  as  thougb  i>-  ■.',.;re  voyaging  to  the  lard 
of  dreams  and  ghosts. 

When  they  came  on  deck  in  the  morning  they  were  passing 
the  western  shores  of  Elizabeth  Island. 

"Elizabeth  Island,  Martha's  Vineyard,  Nantucket!" 
exclaimed  Nora,  whose  eyes  dilated  with  inquisitiveness. 
"How  did  the  islands  >get  their  names?" 

Werner  seldom  confessed  to  ignorance  of  anything,  but  in 
this  case  even  his  inventive  powers  were  at  fault  and  he  was 


■tt&. 


▲IR    OASTLB    DON 


307 


uch  transcendent 
i  was  no  longer 
lassenger-legs  for 

ventilating  their 
:  Paul  Jones,  and 
other  warriors  of 
Captain  Cook,  the 
greater  discoverer 
his  peace,  for  the 
ng  of  the  trees  of 
x>ds  and  streams, 
e  those  described 
tears."    Yet,  if  he 
inless  boy  at  the 
jtructive  muzzle  at 
[idicantly  poor  for 
insane  asylum, 
ncing  moonlight, 
heir  eyelids  heavy 

shore,  and  those 
e  fleet  of  coasters, 
served  to  anchor 
the  vessels  would 
>rag»ng  to  the  laid 

they  were  passing 

rd,     Nantucket!" 
h   inquisitiveness. 

anything,  but  in 
fault  and  he  was 


obliged,  like  some  other  wise  ignoramuses,  to  say:    "I  don't 
know." 

Captain  Small,  like  every  other  coasting  captain  familiar 
with  those  waters,  was  ready  with  his  answer. 

"Well,  it  was  this  way,  miss,"  he  said:  "There  was  an  old 
chap  who  lived  in  New  Bedfoid  who  once  owned  all  three  of 
the  islands.  He  had  three  daughters;  one  was  named  Eliza- 
beth, another  Martha,  and  the  third,  Nancy.  When  he  was 
about  to  die,  he  gave  Elizabeth  the  first  choice  of  the  islands. 
She  chose  the  one  that  was  nearest  to  New  Bedford,  and  the 
island  took  her  name.  The  second  choice  fell  to  Martha,  and 
she  took  the  next  nearest,  and  as  it  had  a  great  many  wild 
grapevines  on  it,  it  became  known  as  Martha's  Vineyard. 

"The  next  morning  after  the  old  man's  death  a  distant  rela- 
tive asked  Martha  what  was  done  with  the  third  island,  and 
was  answered  testily  and  shortly:  'Nan  tuk  it.'  And  ever 
after  the  island  was  called  Nantucket.  The  whaling  aristo- 
crats of  the  island  added  the  'c'  to  the  spelling  to  make  it  look 
like  an  Indian  name." 

"Really,  now,  is  that  why  my  father's  birthplace  .was  called 
Nantucket?"  asked  Gipsy,  intently.  -       * 

"I  wouldn't  swear  to  it,  miss,  but  that  is  the  way  every 
coaster  accounts  for  the  name.  Sailors  in  general  are  apt  to 
tell  yarns,  but  the  coasters  are  famous  for  telling  the  truth.  If 
any  one  can  catch  me  lying  he  is  at  liberty  to  call  me  a  liar. 
If  it  had  been  known  that  your  father  was  to  have  been  born  on 
that  island,  it  would  probably  have  been  called  Williamsport 
or  Billtown.     Names  is  mighty  queer  things,  you  know." 

"They  should  have  called  the  place  Petersport,"  said  Wil- 
helni;  "for  the  people  are  the  descendents  of  Peter." 

"Peter  who?"  asked  Captain  Small. 

"Peter  the  Apostle;  he  was  a  fisherman,  you  know." 


i.-^axtfi»s.-teii.3b<   ;.vi*^i>    -■-— - 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


While  Small  was  getting  ready  to  wrinkle  his  face  by  way 
of  a  feeble  smile,  Gipsy  interrupted  him  with:  "Did  Peter 
catch  whales,  like  the  Nantucketers?" 

"I  don't  know  for  a  certainty,"  Wilhelm  retorted;  "but  I 

know  that  the  prophet  Jonah  caught  a  whale,  and  so  far  as  I 

can  judge,  Peter  was  a  better  fisherman  than  ever  Jonah  was." 

"I  thought  that  the  whale  caught  Jonah?"  said  the  captain, 

a  bit  imcertain  in  his  Scriptural  knowledge. 

"It  is  my  impression  that  they  were  both  badly  caught," 
Wilhelm  replied,  imitatrig  the  captain's  hesitating  speech. 

"Wilhelm  Vonberg!"  said  Gipsy,  in  her  most  solemn  man- 
ner, "Father  Taylor  says  that  the  man  who  tries  to  use  the 
Bible  for  a  peg  to  hang  his  jokes  upon,  is  sillier  than  the  witless 
woman  who  tried  to  hang  her  washing  on  the  horns  of  the 
new  moon."  She  would  have  said  more  but  for  the  squirrel, 
which  sprang  from  the  deck  into  her  lap  and  began  to  tease 
her  for  his  morning's  ration  of  almond  nuts  that  she  always 
carried  in  her  pocket  for  him.  Not  content  with  this,  as  soon 
as  he  had  disposed  of  his  allowance,  he  crept  under  the  corner 
of  her  cloak  and  drawing  it  tightly  around  him,  laid  down  for 
a  nap. 

"That  is  a  sure  sign  of  foul  weather,"  said  Don,  who  was 
observing  his  movements.  "When  he  does  that  this  early  in 
the  day,  you  may  depend  upon  having  a  storm  before  night." 
"He  agrees  with  the  barometer,  but  it's  mighty  curious 
how  a  critter  like  that  knows  anything  about  salt-water 
weather,"  said  Captain  Small,  dropping  his  eyelids  and  squint- 
ing professionally  all  around  the  horizon.  "There's  an  eastern 
wind  somewhere  for  sure,  and  a  sort  of  a  snorter  at  that.  But 
being  fair  for  us  I  shall  not  go  into  port  so  long  as  the  rest  of 
the  fleet  keep  on  the  course.  Not  one  of  them  shows  sign  of 
dodging  in  thus  far." 


m 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


309^ 


face  by  way 
"Did  Peter 

orted;  "but  I 
tid  so  far  as  I 
r  Jonah  was." 
d  the  captain, 

adiy  caught," 
ig  speech. 

solemn  man- 
ies  to  use  the 
lan  the  witless 

horns  of  the 
•r  the  squirrel, 
jegan  to  tease 
lat  she  always 
h  this,  as  soon 
der  the  corner 

laid  down  for 

Don,  who  was 
It  this  early  in 
before  night." 
lighty  curious 
out  salt-water 
ds  and  squint- 
re's  an  eastern 
r  at  that.  But 
J  as  the  rest  of 
shows  sign  of 


At  two  o'clock  the  "easterner"  came  along  hale  and  hearty, 
snorting  like  a  grampus,  spouting  water  like  a  whale,  and  play- 
ing with  the  waves  like  a  porpoise.  It  madeTlieLady  come  to  a 
double  reef  in  her  sails  and  drenched  her  as  if  she  needed  wash- 
ing, but  withal  it  sent  her  bowling  through  the  water  like  a 
swordfish.  The  fleet  put  itself  in  trim  for  the  visit  and  danced 
along  as  merrily  as  if  it  were  sweating  through  the  last  figures 
of  a  cotillion  or  waltz.     Not  a  vessel  swerved  from  its  course. 

Dorothy  and  Gipsy  remained  on  deck  with  the  sterner  sex 
until  they  began  to  get  chilled,  and  then  they  went  below, 
where,  in  their  berths,  they  were  lulled  asleep  by  the  cradle- 
like motions  of  the  vessel  and  the  measured  rhythm  of  the 
swashing  waters  as  they  passed  by  the  hull. 

When  they  again  awoke.  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  was  off 
the  Palisades  on  the  Hudson  Ri  er.  The  majesty  of  the  cliffs, 
the  sheen  of  the  waters,  the  variety  of  craft,  the  freshness  of 
the  air,  the  beauty  of  the  hills,  the  blueness  of  the  sky,  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  sunlight  and  the  magnificence  of  the  dwellings 
and  grounds  on  the  eastern  shore  filled  Gipsy  with  astonish- 
ment and  delight. 

"Is  this  Heaven?"  she. asked  of  Captain  Small,  who  stood  at 
the  wheel,  trying  to  get  the  better  of  a  saucy  little  coasting 
schooner  which  had  shown  an  inclination  to  outsail  The  Lady 
of  The  Lake  ever  since  she  first  hove  in  sight  off  Gay  Head  on 
Martha's  Vineyard. 

"No,  miss,  this  ain't  Heaven;  it's  only  the  Hudson  River; 
and,  according  to  my  reckoning,  it's  a  good  ways  off  from 
Heaven,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  and  keeping 
a  sharp  lookout  on  the  cute  coaster  which  was  doing  her  best 
to  get  abeam  so  as  to  blanket  the  sails  of  The  Lady  and  thus 
steal  a  chance  to  forge  ahead  of  her. 

"That's  a  pesky  craft,"  he  added,  but  addressing  himself  to 


.-=*».:  re 


•'"-'■"-•'irrTitwiiTitinrtn'fi 


^w 


•««i|iiiato 


810 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


I 


i 


Werner.  "Hoist  our  topsail,  and  staysail  and  then  if  The 
Lady  doesn't  forge  ahead  of  her,  HI  have  to  say  that  she 
doesn't  know  her  business." 

No  sooner  was  the  extra  canvas  up  than  the  rival  vessel 
put  on  every  extra  stitch  she  could  muster,  notwithstanding  it 
was  so  squally  that  light  sails  were  likely  to  be  blown  away  at 
any  moment.  But  The  Lady  soon  showed  her  superiority 
over  the  coaster  and  passed  ahead,  her  lighter  bulk  giving  her 
the  advantage  over  her  competitor. 

"When  did  we  pass  New  York?"  asked  Dorothy,  now  that 
the  excitement  was  over. 

"A  little  after  ^lur  o'clock  this  morning,"  said  Werner. 
"We  had  both  the  wind  and  tide  with  us  when  we  entered  Hell 
Gate  and  got  through  that  awful  place  without  the  least 
trouble." 

"Why  didn't  you  call  us  so  that  we  could  see  the  city  as  we 
passed  by?"  Dorothy  asked  with  some  disappointment. 

"I  did  think  of  doing  it,  but  Wilhelm  said  no;  and  I  guess 
he  was  right ;  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  lot  of  masts, 
roofs,  chimney  pots  and  steeples,  and  I  should  think  that  you, 
who  were  born  and  brought  up  in  Boston  had  had  enough  of 
that  kind  of  scenery." 

"I  would  rather  wake  out  of  a  morning  slumber  and  find 
myself  sailing  in  the  midst  of  such  scenery  as  this  than  to  look 
upon  any  city  in  the  world,"  said  Gipsy,  with  great  sincerity. 
"People  who  live  surrounded  by  so  much  beauty  and  grandeur 
ought  to  be  good  enough  to  be  translated  directly  to  Heaven 
without  any  change,"  she  added,  with  deep  earnestness. 

"Which  the  same  they  ain't  by  no  manner  of  means," 
exclaimed  the  captain  forcibly.  "I've  sailed  up  and  down  this 
river  seventy-three  times,  and  I  know  it  as  well  as  I  know  the 
corns  on  my  toes.    Every  prospect  pleases  and  only  man  is 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


Bll 


1  then  if  The 
say  that  she 

le  rival  vessel 
irithstanding  it 
jlown  away  at 
er  superiority 
ulk  giving  her 

3thy,  now  that 

said  Werner, 
re  entered  Hell 
lout  the  least 

:  the  city  as  we 

ntment. 

o;  and  I  guess 

a  lot  of  masts, 

think  that  you, 

had  enough  of 

imber  and  find 
lis  than  to  look 
great  sincerity, 
y  and  grandeur 
ctly  to  Heaven 
mestness. 
ler  of  means," 
)  and  down  this 
1  as  I  know  the 
nd  only  man  is 


vile,  as  the  old  hymn  says.  This  ain't  no  Nantucket,  where 
everybody  tries  to  do  you  good.  The  river  pirates  are  so  thick 
that  if  we  didn't  keep  a  sharp  lookout  they'd  steal  everything 
from  us  from  stem  to  stern  in  no  time ;  and  the  land  sharks  are 
so  eager  to  take  advantage  of  you  that  they  charge  three  prices 
for  everything  they  sell  and  every  favor  they  do  to  you.  If 
you  was  to  fall  from  them  Palisades  and  should  happen  to  be 
picked  up  alive,  the  first  thing  the'd  ask  would  be  how  much 
you'd  give  them  for  carrying  you  to  a  doctor.  It's  a  regular 
road  to  Jericho.  Seeing  as  how  there  are  lots  of  churches 
along  the  river  there  must  be  some  saints  among  them,  but 
none  on  'em  shows  themselves  to  us  coasters;  leastwise,  not 
very  often.  It  seems  to  me  that  where  the  people  is  thickest 
and  the  country  oldest,  there  the  sinners  is  the  wustest  and  the 
vilest.  They  say  this  country  was  fust  settled  by  the  Dutch; 
I  don't  know  much  about  that  race,  but  perhaps  that  accounts 
for  the  lot  of  cussedness  that's  laying  round  loose  all  the  way 
up  and  down  this  river." 

"Dorothy  and  Wilhelm  and  myself  are  closely  related  to  the 
Dutch,"  said  Werner,  laughing  at  the  blushes  of  indignation 
suffusing  his  sister's  face;  "but  we  do  not  feel  particularly 
wicked  on  that  account.  I  know  that  the  Connecticut  Puri- 
tans on  being  asked  why  they  cultivated  tobacco  when  they 
were  so  much  opposed  to  its  use  among  themselves  said  they 
were  raising  it  to  'sell  to  the  Ungodly  Dutch  who  lived  on  the 
Hudson  River;*  yet  those  old  Knickerbockers  were  the  salt  of 
New  York  as  the  Pilgrims  were  the  salt  of  New  England." 

"The  Dutch  were  fine  table  salt,  and  the  Pilgrims  coarse 
pickle  salt,"  said  Dorothy  from  whose  cheeks  the  colors  of 
indignation  had  not  yet  faded  away. 

"If  the  Dutch  were  ever  the  salt  of  the  earth  in  any  shape 
they've  lost  their  savor,"  the  captain  retorted.    "Them  that 


'wJBflm^ 


,1i;n;jy'«t.«i,'— »". 


812 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


I've  run  afoul  of  was  mostly  made  up  of  hard  cider,  lager  beer, 
and  forty  horse-power  tobacco,  and  kept  from  vanishing  into 
nothing  by  hoops  of  rusty  genealogy  and  ancestral  vanity. 
They  are  so  stuck  up  that  they  have  formed  a  little  denomin- 
ation all  by  themselves,  and  they  call  it  The  Dutch  Reformed 
Church.  If  you  go  into  one  of  their  meetin'  houses  you'll  see 
their  coat  of  arms  hung  up  by  the  pulpit,  done  up  in  orange 
and  black,  and  with  so  many  animals  pictured  in  it  cuttin'  up  so 
many  antics  it  looks  like  a  circus  poster.  And  they  have  a  cat- 
echism of  their  own  cut  up  in  fifty-  two  parts  so  that  there  can 
be  a  dose  of  it  for  every  Sunday  in  the  year.  They  say  the 
Ten  Commandments,  The  Lord's  Prayer  and  The  Apostle's 
Creed  every  Sunday  of  their  lives,  but  in  their  opinion  that 
circus  picture  knocks  the  stuffing  out  of  all  of  them.  The 
fust  time  I  saw  that  escutcheon,  as  they  call  it,  hanging  by  the 
pulpit  as  though  there  was  no  place  for  the  cross  where  it  was, 
it  stuck  in  my  crop  like  a  herring  bone.  And  I  jest  said  to 
myself,  if  there  wasn't  another  church  this  side  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  for  a  feller  to  get  into  but  the  Reformed  Church  I'd 
go  into  a  smoke  house  and  get  my  religion  there  before  I'd 
tie  my  hawser  to  a  concern  what's  towed  along  and  kept 
afloat  by  a  yaller  escutcheon  or  any  other  kind  of  scutching." 
Don  was  indigjnam  at  the  captain's  tirade,  and  all  the 
more  so  because  he  knew  that,  although  the  Vonbergs  were 
members  of  Doctor  Beecher's  church,  their  father  and  mother 
were  originally  members  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  and 
still  had  a  great  reverence  for  that  denomination,  notwithstand- 
ing it  was  so  small  numerically.  It  was  therefore  with  consid- 
erable heat  he  said:  "Captain  Small,  your  prejudices  have 
swallowed  your  common  sense;  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church 
is  the  best  and  most  influential  denomination  on  the  Hudson 


K^iiiiri  I    umw 


fi  i[  itli  iiiM  lir  I  I  11  ■■■  I 

!■         I    III**  '  I  iiipi»PI 


•*%• 


:i(ler,  lager  beer, 
vanishing  into 

ncestral  vanity. 

little  denomin- 
)utch  Reformed 
louses  you'll  see 
ne  up  in  orange 
n  it  cuttin'  up  so 

they  have  a  cat- 
>o  that  there  can 
They  say  the 
i  The  Apostle's 
eir  opinion  that 

of  them.    The 

hanging  by  the 
iss  where  it  was, 
id  I  jest  said  to 
ide  of  the  New 
med  Church  I'd 
there  before  I'd 
along  and  kept 
d  of  scutching." 
de,  and  all  the 
Vonbergs  were 
her  and  mother 
ed  Church,  and 
1,  notwithstand- 
)re  with  consid- 
srejudices  have 
formed  Church 
on  the  Hudson 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


818 


River,  and  its  history  is  far  more  interesting  than  the  history  of 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers." 

At  this  shot,  Dorothy  clapped  her  hands  with  vigor,  which 
so  offended  the  captain  that  he  sealed  his  lips  hermetically, 
notwithstanding  both  Bert  and  Gipsy  did  their  best  to  start 
him  off  upon  another  controversial  flight.  Wilhelm  and  Wer- 
ner were  as  much  amused  by  Small's  sudden  reticence  as  they 
had  been  by  his  previous  volubility.  Withal,  they  were  grate- 
ful to  Don  for  dropping  such  a  hot  shot  into  the  captain's  vest 
pocket.  They  were  an  exceptionally '  broadminded  pair  of 
young  men,  but  they  reverenced  the  faith  of  their  parents  alto- 
gether too  much  to  hear  it  lightly  spoken  of  with  indifference. 

For  awhile  there  was  golden  silence,  punctuated  only  by 
exclamations  of  enthusism  and  admiration  elicited  by  the  mag- 
nificence and  sublimity  of  the  scenery  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded. Besides  the  glorious  vistas  of  landscape  opening  up 
on  every  hand  there  were  the  innumerable  jaunty  coasters  with 
their  white  sails  flecking  the  river  in  every  direction,  going  and 
coming,  some  loaded  and  some  light.  An  immense  river 
steamer  passed  by  loaded  with  a  great  crowd  ot  passengers. 
Pleasure  craft  of  every  description  flitted  to  and  fro  like  birds 
skimming  the  brilliant  waters,  and  countless  row-boats  darted 
hither  and  thither  like  water-bugs  upon  a  meadowy  brook. 

Presently  Gipsy's  sentimental  thoughts  and  emotions  were 
snuffed  out  like  a  candle  by  the  sight  of  a  floating  village  which 
notwithstanding  it  was  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  was 
being  slowly  towed  down  the  river  by  five  puffing,  wheezing 
steam  tugs.  The  village  consisted  of  canal  boats,  of  which  she 
counted  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven,  fastened  together  by 
hawsers.  Nearly  all  had  entire  families  on  them  who  carried 
on  their  domestic  avocations  with  as  much  freedom  as  if  they 
were  in  cottages  on  the  land.    The  day  being  sunny,  not  a  few 


-.v'-'jirjm.mi'}, ' 


814 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


were  washing  their  clothes  in  plain  sight  despite  the  comnund- 
ment  which  forbids  such  things.  Other  boats  were  trimmed 
from  stem  to  stern  with  the  fluttering  lines  of  clothing  that  had 
already  gone  through  the  purifying  process.  Here  and  there 
men  and  women  could  be  seen  stepping  from  one  barge  to 
another  making  calls  upon  one  another,  and  doubtless 
exchanging  such  gossip  as  might  be  peculiar  to  the  watery 
town. 

To  Gipsy  the  floating  village  was  at  first  a  mystery ;  then  it 
seemed  the  most  romantic  of  all  things;  but  by  and  by  it 
appeared  tragical  that  so  many  people,  young  and  old,  male 
and  female,  should  be  living  such  an  unsettled  floating  life.  At 
last,  however,  under  the  touch  of  Wilhelm's  humor,  the  quaint 
combination  resolved  itself  into  a  grotesque  oddity  and  a  ludic- 
rous comedy.  The  old  fashions  of  the  women,  the  peculiar 
amusements  of  the  children,  the  lordly  listlessness  of  the  men 
broken  now  and  then  with  snatches  of  broken  dialect,  wild 
songs  and  rollicking  revelry,  and  the  picturesque  groups  of 
sleepers  scattered  in  confusion  here  and  there,  kept  the  hinges 
Of  Gipsy's  mind  swinging  back  and  forth  between  unbounded 
astonishment  and  irrepressible  amusement. 

Three  of  these  floating  villages  were  passed  in  the  course  of 
two  hours;  two  were  bound  down,  and  one,  up.  The  barges 
belonging  to  the  one  going  up  were  without  cargoes,  and 
looked  so  light  that  they  resembled  an  island  of  immense 
wooden  bubbles  seeking  some  place  where  they  might  burst 
into  nothing. 

"If  Father  Taylor  were  to  see  a  fleet  like  that,"  said  Bert, 
"he'd  find  his  salt  water  dictionary  entirely  inadequate  for  his 
needs.  He  could  no  more  turn  those  canal  boats  into  figures 
of  speech  for  sailor  sermons  than  he  could  turn  hog-troughs 
into  Indian  canoes.     I  have  heard  of  'the  raging  canal,'  but  I 


,S^li^US!&Si£^  ■ 


i^lWiiW^H" 


!^P»P" 


AIR   0A8TLB    DON 


815 


e  the  command- 
i  were  trimmed 
bthing  that  had 
Here  and  there 
n  one  barge  to 
and  doubtless 
■  to  the  watery 

nystery ;  then  it 
:  by  and  by  it 
'  and  old,  male 
eating  life.  At 
mor,  the  quaint 
lity  and  a  ludic- 
n,  the  peculiar 
less  of  the  men 
:n  dialect,  wild 
ique  groups  of 
kept  the  hinges 
een  unbounded 

in  the  course  of 
).  The  barges 
t  cargoes,  and 
id  of  immense 
;y  might  burst 

lat,"  said  Bert, 
iequate  for  his 
Its  into  figures 
n  hog-troughs 
g  canal,'  but  I 


didn't  know  that  they  had  a  rage  for  turning  out  such  floating 
nightmares  of  giant  coffins  roped  together  in  that  style.  It  is 
enough  to  give  one  the  delirium  tremens  to  look  at  them. 

He  was  better  pleased  by  the  scenes  at  West  Point,  where 
a  day  was  spent  in  roaming  through  the  grounds  and  sur- 
roundings of  that  famous  military  school.  But  all  minor 
objects  of  attraction  were  reduced  into  insignificance  when, 
continuing  their  voyage,  they  followed  the  river  to  where  it 
cleaves  the  mountains  and  stormy  old  Dunderberg  from 
beneath  his  nightcap  of  cloud  looks  frowningly  down  and  with 
spiteful  gusts  of  breath  marks  his  displeasure  against  the  end- 
less fleets  of  money  makers  and  pleasure  seekers  that  throng 
through  the  wild  pass  that  he  in  his  selfish  isolation  would  have 
consecrated  to  everlasting  solitude  and  silence.  So  severe 
were  his  aspects  and  so  threatening  his  rugged  clififs  that  the 
Lady  of  The  Lake  voyagers  felt  as  though  they  were  intruding 
into  a  sanctum  sanctorum  which  Nature  had  reserved  for  com- 
munion with  herself. 

On  reaching  Catskill  they  left  the  vessel  and  spent  four  days  • 
upon  the  purple  heights  of  the  Catskill  Mountains,  where,  four 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  they  climbed,  wandered,  won- 
dered and  dreamed  among  the  glens,  the  woods  and  clouds 
with  such  lightness  of  soul  they  almost  felt  as  if  in  a  disem- 
bodied state  they  had  reached  the  shores  of  another  world. 
When,  on  the  descent,  they  halted  at  the  old  Rip  Van  Winkle 
House  and  rambled  up  the  darkly  shadowed  glen  where,  as  it 
is  alleged  by  Irving,  Rip  met  the  little  men  and  by  sipping 
from  one  of  their  little  kegs,  was  put  to  sleep  for  twenty  years, 
they  were  more  than  half  inclined  to  think  the  story  literally 
true.  They  had  done  so  much  dreaming  themselves  that  they 
felt  that  they  were  twenty  years  older  than  when  they  .started 
from  Boston,  and  they  were  almost  afraid  that  when  they 


816 


AIR    OASTLE    DON 


returned  nobody  would  be  able  to  recognize  them.  It  was 
with  relief  that  they  descended  from  the  clouds  and  felt  the 
deck  beneath  their  feet  again  and  sailccl  into  matter-of-fact 
Albany  and  listened  to  the  hum  of  an  every-day  world  once 
more. 


uu— j--iM-ijmu>m'"M-""—'— *  ""II 


zc  them.  It  was 
ouds  and  felt  the 
nto  matter-of-fact 
y-day  world  once 


•^r^ 


CHAITKK    XXXI. 


ON   HANNAH   .SCIIKKBCHITM  S    ISLAND. 

Don  and  Bert  went  into  a  liarbcr's  shop  to  get  their  hair 
cut.  Dun  did  not  take  particular  notice  of  the  man  who  was 
cHpping  his  locks,  but  the  man  took  notice  of  him  from  the 
moment  of  his  entrance.  After  snipping  off  a  lock  with  an 
emphatic  movement  of  the  scissors,  he  drew  back  a  step  or 
two,  and  looking  his  customer  in  the  face  with  a  keenly  scrut- 
inizing phmce,  said:  "Methinks  I've  seen  this  face  and  head 
before.  Vet  my  memory  is  a  false  mistress  that  plays  me 
scurvy  tricks.  But  stay  I  Wast  thou  ever  guest  to  a  jailor, 
or  listener  to  a  just  judge  who  spoke  thee  well,  though  thou 
wast  garbed  in  rags  and  clasped  the  hand  of  Sorrow  in  a  prison 
cell?  Ah!  speak  not.  I  have  it!  Have  it  as  I  have  the  vaga- 
bonds of  thought,  that  with  vague  hints  of  things  that  once 
have  been  come  back  to  give  me  torment  'fore  my  time.  Give 
me  thy  hand,  thou  partner  of  my  grief,  for  thou  art  Don  Don- 
alds, who  erstwhiles  heard  me  sing  the  song  of  memory  in 
prison,  and  parted  from  me  because  the  pangs  of  hunger  bade 
us  part." 

It  was  the  actor  with  whom  Don  spent  the  night  in  prison, 
and  Don  was  glad  to  know  that  he  had  at  last  settled  down  to 
something  tangible,  although  the  language  he  used  seemed  to 
have  lost  nothing  of  its  gaseousness.  This  last,  however,  he 
soon  discovered  was  only  assumed  as  prompted  by  the  associa- 
tions of  the  past. 

■.r-j.,.^'     . :    ■■  (317)  ■  ■  ■-.    ■■ 


li  ■• 


■^•iiilOMFntrni  -nmtJei.. 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 

"I  am  making  a  good  living,"  he  said,  laughing  like  a  sane 
man;  "and  what  is  a  deuced  sight  better,  I  have  married  the 
dearest  girl  in  all  the  world,  and  she  has  so  much  good  sense 
that  I  haven't  made  a  fool  of  myself  for  more  than  a  year  and  a 
half,  if  you  will  except  the  manner  in  which  I  spoke  to  you  just 
now."  -  - 

Reminders  of  Don's  former  trials  in  Albany  met  him  at 
every  step,  but  neither  sting  nor  -hame  attended  them.  And 
when  his  companions  insisted  upon  being  shown  the  places 
where  he  had  suffered,  he  complied  without  hesitation,  and 
carried  them  to  the  prison  cell  where  he  passed  a  night,  and  to 
the  old  church  portico  where  he  lodged  with  a  stray  dog,  and 
to  the  shop  of  Abraham  Isaacs,  the  Jew  pawnbroken,  where 
he  had  been  turned  away  as  a  thief  for  inquiring  after  the  con- 
tents of  his  stolen  trunk.  The  old  Israelite  happened  to  be 
standing  in  front  of  his  door  as  they  passed  by,  and  Gipsy  gave 
him  a  glance  from  her  dark  eyes  that  was  indignant  enough  to 
frighten  a  stone,  and  she  would  have  halted  to  give  him  a  lec- 
ture had  not  Bert  hurried  her  on  by  main  force. 

"I  am  not  sorry  I  became  so  hard  pushed  in  this  city,"  said 
Don.  •  "Boys  are  apt  to  be  thoughtless  and  selfish;  I  am  sure 
I  was  before  I  came  here.  Albany  gave  me  lessons  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  learn,  and  I  would  not  have  shown  you 
where  I  learned  them  had  I  not  been  desirous  of  reminding 
myself  of  them  again.  I  am  going  now  to  see  if  that  drinking 
fountain  is  still  in  order.  It  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  too  far  away  for  a  walk  of  pleasure.  Bert  may  go  with  me, 
and  the  rest  of  yon  may  wander  where  you  please  while  we  are 
absent." 

But  his  companions  insisted  upon  going  with  him  to  the 
roundhouse,  where  they  found  the  fountain  dedicated  to  the 
memory  of  Jake  Cullum  and  Bob  Flanger,  looking  as  bright  as 


gh'ing  like  a  sane 
lave  married  the 
nuch  good  sense 
than  a  year  and  a 
spoke  to  you  just 

»any  met  him  at 
ded  them.  And 
hown  the  places 
t  hesitation,  and 
d  a  night,  and  to 
a  stray  dog,  and 
irnbroken,  where 
ng  after  the  con- 
happened  to  be 
,  and  Gipsy  gave 
gnant  enough  to 
)  give  him  a  lec- 

n  this  city,"  said 
dfish;  I  am  sure 
e  lessons  it  was 
have  shown  you 
us  of  reminding 
!  if  that  drinking 
iide  of  the  river, 
may  go  with  me, 
ase  while  we  are 

with  him  to  the 
ledicated  to  the 
cing  as  bright  as 


AIR    OASTLE    DON 


819 


the  day  it  was  put  up.  The  men  made  conscience  of  keeping 
it  in  order.  There  was  no  one  present  that  Don  knew,  and  as 
the  visitors  gave  no  explanation  of  their  presence,  they  caused 
no  small  amount  of  wonder  and  curiosity. 

Don,  now  accompanied  only  by  Bert,  called  on  the  Flanger 
and  Cullum  families,  which,  notwithstanding  the  death  of  the 
bread  winners,  were  getting  along  quite  comfortably.  Don 
received  a  welcome  that  made  his  eyes  water,  and  the  assur- 
ance that  the  assistance  he  gave  them  at  his  form^  visit  had  so 
tided  them  over  shoals  that  ever  since  they  had  been  able  to 
make  their  own  way  without  difficulty. 

When  they  returned  to  the  vessel  Don  found  a  pair  of 
reporters  on  board,  and  as  a  result,  and  in  spite  of  his  own 
reticence,  the  arrival  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  with  the  "Boy 
Philanthropist"  and  his  party  of  Boston  friends  was  chron- 
icled in  flaring  headlines  of  long  locals. 

That  afternoon  the  party  left  for  Saratoga,  where  three  days 
were  spent  at  the  springs.  When  they  came  back  Peter  Piper 
had  a  long  story  to  tell  of  his  trials  during  their  absence.  The 
newspaper  notices  had  caused  a  great  influx  of  visitors  to  The 
Lady,  and  both  Peter  and  the  captain  had  been  subjected  to 
numberless  interrogations.  Small  said  that  so  many  questions 
had  been  asked  that  he  hadn't  a  single  civil  answer  left. 

"Americans  live  more  by  the  questions  they  ask  than  they 
do  by  the  sweat  o'  their  brow,"  said  Peter.  "They  hae  kept 
me  q^aeing  frae  marnin*  till  nigi;*:.  Some  v/ere  that  spierin' 
they  wanted  to  know  if  we  had  ony  lovers  in  the  company. 
On  a'  sich  I  frowned  and  glowered  mightily.  To  more  than 
one  I  says :  'A  talebearer  revealeth  secrets,  but  he  that  is  of  a 
faithful  spirit  concealeth  the  matter.'  See  Proverbs  eleven  and 
thirteen.  They  didna  mind  the  hot  Scripture  shot  no  more 
than  if  it  was  a  feather,  but  when  I  at  'em  wi'  see  Proverbs 


".1 

!t4 


■-■"^'S  ■^■'T'f--'-  V   ■•■■• 


■?»''y^^?:^«M^igifpgwWBgJWgP 


820 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


eleven  and  thirteen,  they  spiered  at  me  as  though  I  was  some- 
thin'  uncanny,  an'  cut  for  the  wharf  as  if  the  de'il  was  ahind 
em. 

"Yes,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  immoderately,  "Peter's 
reference  to  chapter  and  verse  was  as  good  as  a  new  broom. 
It  swept  them  ashore  by  the  half  dozen.  And  now,"  he  went 
on,  "if  you  are  ready  to  give  the  order,  I'll  put  The  Lady  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

"Cast  ofT  as  soon  as  you  please,"  replied  Wilhelm, 
promptly,  "for  I  am  longing  to  get  to  some  place  where  human 
nature  is  scarce." 

On  the  down  trip  they  would  have  stopped  a  day  or  two  in 
New  York,  but  when  they  were  abreast  the  city  the  heat  was 
so  great  they  crowded  canvas  for  the  open  sea.  Nor  did  they 
pause  in  their  voyage  until,  after  threading  a  tortuous  channel, 
they  dropped  anchor  off  Cotuit  Port,  a  small  hamlet  on  the 
south  side  of  Cape  Cod. 

The  mystery  of  the  captain's  ability  to  pilot  his  way  among 
so  many  crooks  and  shallows,  was  solved  to  Don,  when  he 
learned  that  Cotuit  Port  was  Small's  birthplace  and  home,  and 
that  he  was  so  enamoured  with  this  part  of  Barnstable  County 
that  even  its  defects  were  virtues  in  his  sight. 

Disembarking  with  their  tents  and  equipments,  they  rowed 
over  to  "Hannah  Screechum's  Island,"  which  lay  opposite  to 
Cotuit  and  was  distant  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  Here 
was  a  pine  covered  tract  of  eight  hundred  acres  surrounded 
by  a  narrow  belt  of  water  that  gave  a  crooked  shore  line 
about  five  miles  in  extent.  They  encamped  under  the  pines  of 
the  south  shore  close  to  several  heaps  of  oyster  shells  which  in 
the  long  ago  were  formed  of  the  leavings  of  the  aborigfinal 
inhabitants.  The  ground  was  soft  and  dry  with  the  accumula- 
tions of  grey  moss  and  brown  pine-needles.    The  air  was  sweet 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


321 


tgh  I  was  some- 
de'il  was  ahind 

:rately,  "Peter's 
s  a  new  broom. 

I  now,"  he  went 
rhe  Lady  where 
are  at  rest." 
jplied    Wilhelm, 
ce  where  human 

i  a  day  or  two  in 
ity  the  heat  was 
I.  Nor  did  they 
ortuous  channel, 

II  hamlet  on  the 

t  his  way  among 
)  Don,  when  he 
e  and  home,  and 
irnstable  County 

lents,  they  rowed 
1  lay  opposite  to 
of  a  mile.  Here 
icres  surrounded 
)oked  shore  line 
nder  the  pines  of 
;r  shells  which  in 
jf  the  aborigfinal 
ith  the  accumula- 
rhe  air  was  sweet 


with  the  odors  of  the  pines  and  of  the  broad  green  leaves  of 
the  trailing  arbutus,  and  cool  and  bracing  under  the  shade 
where  ocean  breezes  played  at  will.  The  Seapuit  River,  a  nar- 
row tide  stream,  and  Dead  Neck,  a  narrower  strip  of  sand 
beach,  gave  a  touch  of  variety  to  the  isolated  scene  without 
interfering  with  the  view  of  the  gloriously  amethystine  sea. 
Fifteen  miles  away  they  could  discern  the  shores  of  Martha's 
Vineyard,  and  if  there  had  been  ambition  enough  left  to  climb 
the  tallest  tree,  glimpses  through  a  glass  would  have  revealed 
the  whereabouts  of  redolent  Nantucket. 

"You  are  nine  miles  distant  from  any  railroad  or  tele- 
graph," said  Captain  Small,  with  evident  satisfaction.  The 
people  of  Cotuit  Port  are  so  accustomed  to  minding  their  own 
business  that  there  need  be  no  fear  of  them,  A  mile  or  so 
north  of  you  is  the  Village  of  Osterville,  whose  people  are  so 
slow  that  they  will  never  take  the  trouble  to  come  down  here. 
So  here  you  are  as  much  out  of  the  world  as  if  you  were  clams 
in  a  mud-flat.  There  won't  be  even  a  reporter  to  pry  into  your 
shells.  And  by  the  way,  them  Ostervillians  is  so  stuck  up  in 
their  notions  that  they've  been  trying  to  call  this  Paradise 
Island  and  all  that  sort  of  hifalutin  thing,  and  the  next  we  know 
they'll  dub  Dead  Neck,  Blue  Bell  Terrace  because  the  wild 
peavines  blossom  there.  Some  of  them  has  relatives  in  Boston 
and  that's  where  all  them  notions  come  from.  I  'spect  that 
one  of  these  days  them  Bostonians  will  come  down  along  this 
coast  like  the  frogs  went  into  Egypt  and  then  their  cologne- 
bottle  cottages  will  spile  every  nateral  thing  that  we've  got. 
But  don't  you  forgit  that  this  is  Hannah  Screechum's  Island, 
and  that  that  there  spit  of  sand  is  Dead  Neck,  and  that  they'll 
carry  them  names  till  every  mother's  son  of  the  old  settlers  is 
dead  and  buried." 


■\   I 


■:.\  n 


««t 


r^ 


322 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


"But  how  did  the  old  settlers  coim.  to  give  such  curdling 
names  to  these  places?"  asked  Gipsy.  ,' 

Small  was  rather  nonplussed  by  the  directness  of  the  ques- 
tion, but  managed  to  say:  "Oh,  there  was  a  hidden  treasure 
and  a  murdered  man,  and  a  killed  woman  besides,  whose  name 
was  Hannah,  and  who  set  up  an  awful  screeching  every  time 
anyone  tried  to  find  the  treasure.  There  must  have  been  some 
truth  in  the  story,  'cos  if  there'd  been  no  sech  thing,  there'd 
be  no  sech  story." 

"Docs  Hannah  ever  do  any  screeching  on  the  island  now?" 
asked  Dorothy,  who  betrayed  little  respect  for  the  captain's 
narrative,  and  less  for  his  logic.     "'     - : 

"No.  Mrs.  Abby  Kelly,  an  Ostervillian  spiritualist,  asked 
her  why  she'd  given  up  screeching,  and  Hannah  answered  that 
she'd  got  tired  of  it,  'cos  the  folkses  had  become  so  allfired 
cute  and  intelligent  that  they  paid  no  attention  to  ghosts  and 
didn't  believe  in  anything  else  that  belonged  to  another  world. 
Abby  Kelly  would  have  taken  Hannah  into  partnership,  so  as 
to  convince  the  people  that  sperrits  could  tip  chairs  and  knock 
tables;  she  would  have  given  anything  if  Hannah  would  have 
screeched  at  her  sittings,  but  Hannah  said  she  had  more  than 
she  could  attend  to  in  the  other  world  without  bothering  her- 
self with  this  one."  -,  -  . 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dorothy  with  a  great  show  of  gratitude; 
"all  1  wanted  to  be  assured  of  was  that  Hannah  wouldn't  do 
•:;ny  screeching  while  we  are  here." 

"You  needn't  trouble  yourselves  about  the  treasure,"  Small 
continued,  "for  although  the  old  settlers  ransacked  the  island 
from  stem  to  stern,  they  never  found  anything  but  the  oyster 
shells  the  Indians  had  forgotten  to  take  to  their  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Grounds,  when  they  cleaied  out  to  make  room  for  the 
white  man. 


mammimm 


as^ 


s  such  curdling 

ess  of  the  ques- 
hJdden  treasure 
les,  whose  name 
ling  every  time 
have  been  some 
h  thing,  there'd 

he  island  now?" 
or  the  captain's 

Mritualist,  asked 
h  answered  that 
:ome  so  allfired 
n  to  ghosts  and 
■)  another  world, 
irtnership,  so  as 
hairs  and  knock 
inah  would  have 
;  had  more  than 
t  bothering  her- 

low  of  gratitude; 
lah  wouldn't  do 

treasure,"  Small 
acked  the  island 
g  but  the  oyster 
;ir  Happy  Hunt- 
ce  room  for  the 


^^•mm^jlitrmr^y^Sf^f^^'^ni^mmgmm^rm'^^ 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


^Wfl^"WW« 


323 


"But  there  is  other  treasures  that'll  be  oi  some  account. 
There's  quauhaugs  if  you're  a  mind  to  wade  for  them,  and 
clams  that  can  be  had  for  the  digging,  and  lots  of  scup  outside 
Dead  Neck,  and  oceans  of  bluefish  besides.  When  you  get 
ready  to  go  fishing,  I'll  take  you  out  in  one  of  our  fast  sailing 
Cotuit  boats.  Wc  can  anchor  for  scup  fishing,  but  you  have 
to  keep  scudding  like  the  dickens  if  you  want  to  get  hold  of  a 
blue  fish.  They're  to  be  caught  only  by  making  believe  to  run 
away  from  them." 

It  was  not  long  before  they  verified  this  part  of  the  treasure 
story  to  their  full  satisfaction,  though  it  was  at  the  cost  of 
tender  feet,  soft  hands  and  sensitive  faces,  which  persisted  in 
protesting  against  the  exposures  to  which  they  were  so  ruth- 
lessly subjected. 

The  camp  was  named  Castle  Indolence,  after  one  of  Thom- 
son's poems,  but  the  occupants  kept  themselves  so  busy  with 
one  thing  and  another  that  little  time  went  to  waste.  They 
liked  their  camping  on  the  island  better  than  they  did  their- 
voyage  up  the  Hudson,  because  they  could  keep  themselves  so 
busy  doing  nothing,  thougn  they  would  not  have  missed  the 
river  trip  for  anything.  '^  ^: 

Hearing  that  there  was  a  settlement  of  Indians  at  Marsh- 
pee,  not  far  from  Cotuit  Port,  they  hired  a  team  at  the  Port 
and  made  an  excursion  to  the  relics  of  the  lost  tribes.  They 
found  the  tawny  faces,  the  high  cheek  bones,  the  straight  hair 
and  the  black  dull  eyes  that  characterize  the  Indians,  but  these 
were  about  all  that  was  left  of  the  once  famous  tribes  of 
Massachusetts. 

"They  live  like  white  people,  with  their  cottages,  school 
and  church,  and  white  manners  and  meannesses  thrown  in, 
and  that  takes  all  the  romance  out  of  them,"  said  Bert,  discon- 
tentedly, after  his  return.    "I  went  around  and  tried  to  find 


i 


.5 


4 


•A 


1 


■ 


Ji 


'-'vvS|jitorii|^ 


824 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


something  in  the  shape  of  an  arrow,  or  a  tomahawk  or  a  scalp 
to  buy,  and  they  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  heathen,  and  talked 
religion  at  me  so  fast  and  pointedly  that  I  left  them  as  soon  as 
I  could.  One  old  squaw — I  mean,  lady — wanted  to  pray  for 
me.  I  told  her  I  had  no  objections  to  her  doing  it  after  I  was 
out  of  sight.  And  then  she  looked  at  me  so  sadly  I  said  she 
might  go  ahead  at  once.  But  for  some  reason  or  other  she 
didn't  sec  fit  to  take  up  with  my  oflfer." 

"She  knew  that  you  were  an  uncivilized,  heathen  white 
boy,"  said  Gipsy,  indignantly;  "that's  why  she  didn't  give  you 
the  benefit  of  her  blessing.  I  wish  I  had  been  there  in  your 
stead." 

"You  might  have  been  if  you  had  not  been  so  busy  hunting 
after  eagle  feathers,  and  bead  wampums  and  other  vanities," 
Bert  retorted  laughingly. 

They  had  not  been  in  camp  after  their  return  more  than  an 
hour  when  a  boat-load  of  company  came  into  their  little  land- 
ing to  make  a  call.  They  had  come  down  from  Osterville. 
Three  of  the  ladies  belonged  to  Boston,  and  two  to  the  village. 
One  of  the  gentlemen  was  from  Boston,  another  was  the  editor 
of  "The  Barnstable  Patriot,"  and  the  third  was  from  the  vil- 
lage where  he  officiated  as  pastor  of  the  Baptist  Church.  The 
Boston  ladies  knew  all  about  Don's  career,  and  one  of  them 
was  one  of  the  anonymous  contributors  to  the  fund  he  had  set 
aside  for  trust  purposes. 

The  editor  was  there  to  write  up  the  party.  With  this 
exception  the  visit  proved  more  than  pleasant.  The  excep- 
tion, however,  arose  more  from  the  modesty  of  the  interviewed 
than  from  the  intrusiveness  of  the  interviewer.  And  in  the 
end,  the  subjects  of  the  editor's  search  suffered  little  from  the 
account  he  gave  of  the  party. 

When  the  campers  returned  the  call  they  discovered  that 


»'.,■  #" 


mm<fim4» 


AIll    CASTLE    DON 


325 


iwk  or  a  scalp 
len,  and  talked 
lem  as  soon  as 
ed  to  pray  for 
I  it  after  I  was 
idly  I  said  she 
1  or  other  she 

heathen  white 
lidn't  give  you 
I  there  in  your 

o  busy  hunting 
jther  vanities," 

n  more  than  an 
heir  little  land- 
rom  Osterville. 
0  to  the  village. 
r  was  the  editor 
IS  from  the  vil- 
t  Church.  The 
id  one  of  them 
fund  he  had  set 

rty.  With  this 
It.  The  excep- 
the  interviewed 
;r.  And  in  the 
d  little  from  the 

discovered  that 


Osterville  consisted  af  about  three  hundred  inhabitants,  whose 
houses  looked  as  if  they  had  been  originally  planted  by  a  Cape 
Cod  gale,  SO  promiscuously  were  they  scattered. 

"The  people  look  as  sharp  as  razors,"  said  Dorothy,  "but 
what  surprises  me  is  that  they  have  not  invented  more  names 
for  themselves.  When  you  have  said  Crockers  and  Crosbys, 
Hallets  and  Lovells,  Scudders  and  Hinckleys,  you  Inve 
exhausted  the  whole  list  of  names." 

"That's  because  they  marry  one  another  so's  to  keep  their 
names  at  home,"  explained  Captain  Small,  who  was  bound  to 
say  all  he  could  in  disparagement  of  the  rival  village.  Jeal- 
ousy ran  high  between  the  two  places.  Every  stray  egg  that 
could  be  hatched  to  the  detriment  c  each  other  was  immedi- 
ately set  upon  and  incubated.  ' 
V  On  Sunday  Don  rode  with  the  Cotuit  minister,  who  was  to 
preach  an  afternoon  sermon  in  Osterville.  He  was  much 
pleased  with  the  quality  of  the  sermon  and  the  character  of  the 
congregation.  But  during  the  services  a  Sunday  school  boy 
of  the  "Scudder  persuasion"  resolving  that  a  Cotuit  horse 
should  not  be  tied  to  an  Osterville  fence,  cut  the  exchanging 
minister's  new  harness  into  three  times  the  number  of  pieces  it 
was  originally  designed  to  have.  Without  a  murmer,  the  min- 
ister put  things  together  as  best  he  could  and  drove  home  talk- 
ing as  cheerfully  as  was  possible  under  the  circumstances. 
The  boy,  although  well  known,  escaped  punishment  for  his 
offense  because  his  father  was  a  local  church  official ;  he  never, 
however,  got  rid  of  the  criminal  disposition  which  prompted 
his  act.  Folly  was  bound  up  in  his  hide  and  he  was  an  object 
of  contempt  to  all  who  had  the  misfortune  to  know  him  in  his 
subsequent  life.  The  very  nails  with  which  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  scratching  people,  turned  inward  and  proved  his  sorest 
punishment. 


4ft    k 


..T,^^i 


i 


826 


AIR    0A8TLE    DON 


¥-. 


On  meeting  Captain  Small,  Don  asked  him  how  he  liked 
the  Osterville  parson  who  had  exchanged  with  his  pastor. 

"Only  middling  well,"  Small  replied,  pursing  his  mouth 
and  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  clouds.  "Fact  is,  though  he  may  do 
for  Osterville,  or  some  place  out  West,  like  Chicago,  he  could 
never  fill  the  bill  for  Cotuit  Port.  We  must  have  the  best  of 
preaching  in  our  place." 

"How  much  do  you  pay,"  Don  was  curious  enough  to  ask. 

"Three  hundred  dollars  and  a  donation." 

"Where  does  he  live?" 

"In  Cotuit,  of  course.  What  makes  you  ask  that  ques- 
tion?" 

"You  pay  him  so  little,  I  didn't  know  but  he  lived  in 
Heaven  during  week  days," 

Captain  Small  walked  away,  looking  grieved  to  the  heart. 

"Look  here,  Captain  Small,"  Don  called  after  him,  and 
causing  him  to  return ;  "that  man  is  a  christian,  besides  being  a 
good  preacher.  He  took  the  cutting  of  his  harness  without 
complaint,  and  didn't  say  a  word  to  me  about  the  meanness 
of  his  parishioners  who  force  him  to  go  into  the  pulpit  looking 
as  seedy  as  a  moulting  bird.  I  shall  get  him  a  new  harness, 
and  take  his  measure  for  a  new  suit  of  clothes  which  I  will  have 
made  for  him  as  soon  as  I  return  to  Boston.  But  if  you  charge 
these  things  on  your  donation  account  I'll  set  the  Boston 
reporters  after  you,  and  they  know  how  to  flay  mean  people  to 
perfection." 

"If  you'll  give  him  them  things,  I'll  give  him  a  barrel  of 
flour  and  not  let  even  my  wife  know  anything  about  it,"  said 
Small,  joyously,  for  he  loved  his  pastor,  and  practically  was 
his  best  friend. 

And  so  the  time  passed  away,  almost  every  day  bringing 
with  it  some  new  pleasure  and  some  new  incident  revealing 


•^f 


•p-vA. 


m  how  he  liked 
his  pastor, 
sing  his  mouth 
3ugh  he  may  do 
licago,  he  could 
lave  the  best  of 

5  enough  to  ask. 


ask  that  ques- 


but  he  lived  in 

ed  to  the  heart. 

after  him,  and 
,  besides  being  a 
harness  without 
It  the  meanness 
e  pulpit  looking 

a  new  harness, 
hich  I  will  have 
ut  if  you  charge 
set  the  Boston 
mean  people  to 

liim  a  barrel  of 

about  it,"  said 

practically  was 

y  day  bringing 
ident  revealing 


AIR    0A8TLB    DON 


827 


queer  phases  of  human  nature,  both  juvenile  and  adult. 
Having  the  theatrical  garments  on  board  The  Lady  of  The 
Lake,  Wilhelm  and  Werner  sifted  a  medley  from  The  Midsum- 
mer Night  Dream  of  Shakespeare,  and,  forming  a  corps  of 
assistants  from  the  club  and  from  the  bright  young  people  of 
Cotuit  and  Ostervillc,  blended  them  together  in  a  nocturnal 
festival  in  which  lanterns  gleamed,  songs  abounded,  tableaux 
figured,  recitations  resounded  and  dancing  and  clam  chowder 
came  in  last,  but  not  least  in  the  round  of  innocent  merry- 
making. 

The  people  on  shore  who  thought  it  a  crime  to  black  boots 
or  to  wear  a  ribbon,  were  shocked,  and  wished  that  Hannah 
Screechum  would  do  her  duty  by  "the  ungodly  carousers"  and 
bring  them  to  their  pious  senses  by  one  of  her  most  piercing 
"Scritches." 

Although  unaware  of  the  benevolent  wishes  of  the 
"unco  guid,"  people  of  Cotuit  and  Osterville,  the  occupants  of 
Castle  Indolence  on  the  night  following  the  festival  had  reason 
to  believe  that  Hannah  did  not  intend  to  let  them  depart  with- 
out giving  to  the  most  incredulous  evidences  of  her  existence 
and  of  her  old-time  "scritching"  ability. 

The  lights  were  out,  the  trees  were  silent  and  not  even  a 
breath  of  wind  wandered  through  the  dense  shadows  of  the 
island.  It  being  half  past  eleven,  and  the  campers  having  been 
on  the  sea  all  the  afternoon  blue-fishing,  they  were  wrapped  in 
a  profound  slumber.  Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  titinabula- 
tion  cf  a  bell  not  far  from  where  the  camp  was  situated.  Again 
and  again  the  bell  rang  out,  seeming  to  gather  force  with  each 
repetition,  to  the  unbounded  horror  of  the  trembling  campers 
who  hastened  to  light  their  lights.  Whilst  they  sat  cowering 
and  listening  to  the  weird  sounds  ringing  through  the  woods, 
peals  of  high-keyed  laughter  pierced  the  air  and  was  immedi- 


N 


■l- 


■■■Ti 


'■;#l 


'm 


<^ai^i^^'-^tijL<^''i 


;"^;"7.t,: 


328 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


ately  followed  by  shriek  after  shriek  that  sounded  so  discord- 
antly terrific  that  the  very  trees  began  to  shiver,  for  the  wind 
itself  was  being  aroused  and  sighed  through  the  pines  with  a 
low  I'.ndertone  that  but  added  to  the  general  alarm. 

Pttcr,  half  clad,  hugging  his  Bible  with  both  hands  to  his 
breast,  and  shaking  as  with  the  palsy,  fled  from  his  own  tent, 
and  ran  into  the  tent  of  the  other  campers  crying  out:  "The 
Lord  hae  mercy  on  us  all  for  a'  our  iniquities  an'  transgres- 
sions!" He  had  been  sadly  tried  by  the  doings  of  the  preced- 
ing evening,  notwithstanding  he  had  avoided  remonstrances 
and  had  heroically  performed  the  duty  of  waiting  upon  the 
pleasures  of  the  guests.  He  felt  sure  now  that  supernatural 
causes  were  at  work  to  punish  them  all  for  having  such  a 
merry  time.  He  tried  to  stay  himself  with  some  Scripttjral 
quotation  suited  to  the  emergency,  but  his  mind  was  so 
clouded  by  fear  that  his  memory  refused  to  serve  him. 

Dorothy,  in  her  terror,  clung  to  Bert,  while  Gipsy  cast  her- 
self into  Don's  arms  beseeching  him  to  keep  "Hannah"  from 
harming  her. 

Don  began  to  laugh  in  spite  of  Gipsy's  fears,  and  while  Bert 
was  holding  Dorothy  very  tightly  to  prevent  himself  from 
trembling,  the  untimely  mirth  increased  till  it  seemed  but  the 
echo  of  the  sounds  that  came  up  from  the  surface  of  the 
Seapuit. 

"There  is  no  Hannah  in  this  hubbub,"  he  said,  as  soon  as 
he  could  control  himself.  That  was  only  an  owl  that  made 
those  shrieks  and  that  mocking  laughter  is  made  by  a  loon 
that's  down  there  on  the  river,  and  the  bell  is  our  dinner  bell. 
When  the  tide  is  up  you  have  noticed  the  shoals  of  menhaden 
fish  that  swim  about  here.  While  watching  them  after  supper 
I  saw  three  small  sharks  following  them  and  I  planned  to  get 
one,  if  possible.     I  baited  a  cod-hook  with  a  piece  of  fresh 


"?«-a 


'  5tS'J«*'7»»lW»S  'TilKVr'"*- 


■  .iS«^tv*t;,*;wfl>»S^e.ii.*  ■ ', 


'^m^^K^mmf'^' 


Ain    CASTLE    DON 


829 


led  so  discord- 

r,  for  the  wind 

ic  pines  with  a 

rm. 

:h  hands  to  his 

n  his  own  tent, 

ng  out:     "The 

an'  transgres- 
;  of  the  preced- 
remonstrances 
iting  upon  the 
at  supernatural 
having  such  a 
oine  Scriptural 

mind   was   so 
fe  him. 

Gipsy  cast  her- 
' Hannah"  from 

and  while  Bert 
t  himself  from 
seemed  but  the 

surface  of  the 

said,  as  soon  as 
owl  that  made 
iiade  by  a  loon 
our  dinner  bell. 
,1s  of  menhaden 
em  after  supper 
planned  to  get 
I  piece  of  fresh 


beef,  and  after  putting  on  a  good  float,  threw  it  into  the  river, 
and  tied  the  shore-end  of  the  line  to  a  small  sapling  on  the  top 
of  which  I  suspended  our  dinner  bell  in  such  a  way  that  it 
would  ring  if  the  bait  was  taken.  Something  is  at  that  line; 
the  line  has  started  the  bell;  the  bell  has  started  the  loon,  and 
the  loon  has  stirred  up  the  owl  and  we  have  had  a  great  scare 
for  nothing,  I  am  going  down  to  the  shore  to  see  what  has 
swallowed  that  bait." 

"If  you  are  sure  it  isn't  Hannah,  I  will  go  with  you,"  said 
Bert  bravely,  and  the  Vonbergs,  though  still  shaking,  as  with 
an  ague,  declared  that  they  would  follow. 

"But  what  if  you  should  be  mistaken,  and  Hannah  should 
come  here  while  you  are  gone,"  said  Gipsy,  tremulously. 

"Peter  with  his  Bible  will  be  a  match  lor  her,"  answered 
Werner,  beginning  to  realize  the  absurdity  of  their  alarms. 

But  Peter,  mortified  by  the  groundlessness  of  his  fears  and 
the  dishabille  of  his  person,  had  retreated  to  his  own  quarters 
where,  after  depositing  his  Bible,  he  said  to  himself:  "The 
wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth.  See  Proverbs  twenty- 
eight  and  first." 

On  being  called  he  returned  looking  humble  and  crest- 
fallen, and  saying:  "I  might  hae  keened  it  was  but  an  owl  an' 
a  loon  had  I  not  been  clean  fasht  by  the  bell.  And  to  think  it 
is  the  same  bell  I  hae  been  ringing  every  day,  is  cneuch  to 
make  me  believe  that  I  hae  become  as  daft  as  that  loo*^  that's 
laughing  at  the  bell." 

The  shark  was  securely  hooked  and  required  hard  pulling 
to  get  him  on  shore  where  he  threshed  about  in  the  sedge  and 
snapped  his  jaws  as  if  he  had  swallowed  Hannah  before  taking 
the  beef.  He  measured  six  feet  three  inches.  The  bell  having 
ceased  to  ring,  the  loon  and  the  owl  relapsed  into  silence, 
leaving  the  shark-catchers  to  do  the  laughing  and  shrieking. 


'.1 


^^^^ 


SiK) 


AItt    CASTLE    DON 


pi 


As  soon  as  the  sun  was  up  they  began  to  extract  the  teeth 
of  the  shark  for  mementoes,  and  as  there  was  nothing  more 
to  fear  from  the  manes  of  Hannah  Screechum,  Gipsy  said  with 
evident  disappointment:  "I  wish  it  had  been  Hannah  instead 
of  the  shark.  Tiiere  wouhl  have  been  seven  of  us  to  prove  the 
ghost  story  which  wouUl  have  made  a  lovely  ending  to  our 
wonderful  trip." 

"I'd  rather  catch  a  shark  than  a  ghost  any  time,"  exclaimed 
Bert,  with  fervor.  "We  have  got  the  shark,  and  we  have  had 
the  scare.  If  an  imaginary  ghost  can  play  such  havoc  with  us, 
I  wonder  what  a  real  one  would  have  done?" 

They  tried  to  kcc|)  the  story  to  themselve«;  but  Gipsy  hav- 
ing told  it  to  the  captain,  the  captain  told  it  to  his  wife,  and  so 
the  "Darnstable  Patriot"  brought  it  out  with  trimmings  and 
embellishments  galore,  as  did  the  Boston  papers  also  when  they 
reproduced  it  from  the  Cape  papers.  Notwithstanding  the 
facts  were  so  widely  distributed,  there  followed  a  real  revival 
of  The  Hannah  Screechum  superstition  and  the  island  for 
years  was  given  a  wide  birth  at  night.  Having,  however, 
received  a  new  name,  and  being  made  accessible  by  a  fancy 
bridge  which  gives  entrance  to  driveways  of  surpassing  beauty, 
and  being  frequented  by  the  costly  equipages  of  Boston  people 
whose  summer  houses  occupy  the  adjacent  blufTs,  the  super- 
stition is  fast  passing  into  the  shades  of  oblivion. 


-.'»H!!t»S»a;lg;4.-':Vi:'«,'-;W«r»'«^,'.- 


'•JiVVai',  vf«sijsi(» 


^1^ 


~T 


xtract  the  teeth 
i  nothing  more 
Gipsy  said  with 
Hannah  instead 
us  to  prove  the 
ending  to  our 

inie,"  exclaimed 
nd  we  have  had 
1  havoc  with  us, 

but  Gipsy  hav- 
his  wife,  and  so 

trimmings  and 
3  also  when  they 
'ithstanding  the 
:d  a  real  revival 
I  the  island  for 
iving,  however, 
sible  by  a  fancy 
rpassing  beauty, 
)f  Boston  people 
luflfs,  the  super- 
ion. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 


A  PAFTING   LOOK   INTO  THR   KALKIDOSCOPB. 

In  after  summers,  The  Lady  of  The  Lake  made  other  vaca- 
tion trips,  but  never  another  richer  in  store  of  pleasure  and 
variety  of  experience  than  that  first  one  which  is  now  only  a 
precious  memory  to  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  partic- 
ipate in  it. 

During  the  vacation,  Don  had  many  an  hour  in  which  his 
old  air  castle  habits  asserted  themselves  with  redoubled  power. 
Indeed  in  the  whole  of  his  after  life,  he  was  seldom  content 
with  piling  up  mere  wood  and  brick  and  stone  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  prevailing  forms  of  architecture.  He  was  not 
averse  to  hard  pan,  but  as  a  general  thing,  he  had  a  strong 
preference  for  Dreamland ;  and  the  castles  he  shaped  there  were 
far  more  to  his  mind  than  any  he  could  shape  on  earth.  True, 
they  appeared  only  to  disappear,  and  many  of  the  appoint- 
ments of  his  imagination  proved  but  disappointments  to  his 
hopes.  Nevertheless,  though  bright  clouds  changed  into  grey, 
and  sublime  airy  shapes  became  transformed  into  shreds  of 
vapory  rags  or  fragile  tracery  that  only  served  to  cob-web  the 
blue  sky,  minature  globes  of  moisture  were  distilled  from  them 
that  made  the  earth  the  richer  for  their  descent. 

Much  to  his  own  surprise,  Don  finally  found  himself  in  the 
pulpit.  Doctor  Beecher,  his  prudent  and  steadfast  friend, 
urged  him  to  preach  a  trial  sermon  in  his  desk. 

"I,  preach  a  trial  sermon  in  a  pulpit  where  first  and  last  all 

..--^ /':.;-     (331)         ,   -y-  :;.    . 


.V 


©emasski^s^i*-,:-. 


; 


Ilil>p»  Wji;^fiiiiiii;w!ti.»i|ti(pi  ..jyi'wyji.ny.w 


332 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


the  men  of  the  Beecher  family,  from  the  father  down  to  the 
youngest  son,  have  preached?"  Don  exclaimed  with  astonish- 
ment. "And  would  you  tempt  me  to  preach  a  trial  sermon  in 
Boston  where  there  are  so  many  great  men  and  grand  preach- 
ers? The  very  thought  would  be  the  essence  of  temerity. 
No;  I'll  go  down  home,  and  if  I  really  do  get  courage  enough 
to  preach  a  trial  sermon,  I'll  try  it  upon  the  country  people. 
In  any  event,  it  will  be  a  great  trial  to  them  as  well  as  to 
myself." 

Although  the  good  doctor  smiled  benevolently  and  urged 
strenuously,  he  failed  to  turn  Don  from  either  his  opinion  or 
his  purpose. 

When  he  descended  from  the  bird's  nest  pulpit  which  hung 
near  the  ceiling  of  the  meeting  house  where  his  first  sermon 
was  preached,  it  was  with  such  shame  and  confusion  of  face 
that  it  seemed  as  though  all  the  air  castles  he  had  ever  dreamed 
of  had  been  demolished  and  the  remains  packed  in  the  skin 
of  a  mustard  seed. 

While  vainly  endeavoring  to  retreat  from  the  valley  of  his 
humiliation,  Peter  Piper,  who  had  returned  to  his  old  haunts 
with  all  his  old  habits,  met  him  with  the  words :  "And  ye  shall 
go  forth,  and  grow  up  as  the  calves  of  the  stall.  See  Malachi 
fourth  and  second.  Ye  are  but  a  calf  o'  a  preacher  now,  lad, 
but  accoordin'  to  that  Scripture  there's  a  chance  for  ye  to  grow 
into  a  regular  roarin'  bull  o'  Bashan." 

On  reaching  home  his  mother  corrected  him  for  saying 
first,  of  the  first  head  of  his  sermon,  instead  of  firstly.  An 
elder  brother,  who  had  survived  the  ordeal  of  his  own  trial- 
sermon,  chided  hir.i  for  using  the  word  analogy,  saying  that 
such  a  word  could  neither  be  intelligently  used  by  the  speaker 
nor  understood  by  the  people.  Three  younger  brothers 
frankly  declared  that  they  themselves  could  have  excelled  the 


3i^^mi§M 


!,  .•n,.imiimiiijii««^ 


i;.   H,"«    "■jliMm)'^jlJHyiH—'1'ia  fm  [■jumumnnjliii.  iuji,i;|.iii;y5^iBiii»niilnni|i  ffiiHl  ,11  m'l/imf^'^mf^flim-tmmifymm^-mf^fp^rr^mminf^ 


tr  down  to  the 
with  astonish- 
trial  sermon  in 
I  grand  preach- 
ce  of  temerity, 
ourage  enough 
;ountry  people. 
1  as  well  as  to 

ntly  and  urged 
his  opinion  or 

Ipit  which  hung 
lis  first  sermon 
infusion  of  face 
d  ever  dreamed 
ced  in  the  skin 

he  valley  of  his 
his  old  haunts 
"And  ye  shall 
1.  See  Malachi 
acher  now,  lad, 
;  for  ye  to  grow 

him  for  saying 
of  firstly.  An 
»f  his  own  trial- 
gy,  saying  that 
by  the  speaker 
jnger  brothers 
ive  "ixcelled  the 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


383 


sermon  by  a  number  of  degrees.  His  only  sister  reproved  him 
for  making  a  sweat  spout  of  his  chin  when  he  might  have 
removed  the  moisture  by  timely  applications  of  a  handkerchief, 
which  she  herself  had  carefully  placed  in  the  right  pocket  of  his 
coat.  His  father,  the  pastor  of  the  flock,  remained  eloquently 
silent,  and  for  this  Don  was  profoundly  thankful,  for  he  knew 
that  he  might  have  opened  his  mouth  and  spoken  terrible 
things  in  righteousness. 

What  his  oi.l  schoolmates  and  the  people  thought  of  his 
first  efifort,  Don  never  cared  nor  dared  to  learn,  but  what  he 
thought  of  himself,  and  it,  is  sealed  with  seven  seals.  Many 
years  afterward  Doctor  Beecher  tried  to  elicit  an  account  of 
his  emotions  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  clerical  flight— or  more 
correctly  speaking,  his  first  clerical  descent — but  the  seven 
seals  remained  unbroken  even  to  him,  the  best  advisor  he  ever 
had.  The  most  vital  movements  of  the  body  are  concealed 
from  view,  and  the  same  holds  true  of  some  of  the  adverse 
experiences  of  life  which  deposit  the  successive  layers  of 
human  character. 

Three  rather  strange  things  happened  in  connection  with 
Don's  clerical  career.  A  time  came  when  he  preached  inside 
of  that  church  edifice  where  outside  the  main  entrance  he  for- 
merly lay  penniless  and  sick  in  order  to  shield  himself  from 
the  drenching  rain  that  added  honors  to  the  forlornness  of  his 
night.  A  time  came  also  when  he  occupied  the  desk  of  Tre- 
mont  Temple,  where  he  had  once  been  compelled  to  make  his 
midnight  lodging  in  a  dry-goods  box  in  the  attic  of  the  build- 
ing. The  sexton  who  discovered  him  in  that  position  was  still 
alive  when  Don  stood  in  the  desk,  and  was  woefully  perplexed 
by  the  quickly  discovered  resemblance  between  the  looks  and 
voice  of  the  speaker  and  the  looks  and  tones  of  the  lad  whom 


-' 


A: 


i 


■^ 


'■'^ 


'rt'^ 


»rti  -...:»- 


i 


t 


ra'Vt'-'Jgg'g'  ,r>r,.-n  ,BS.-];K„-yj»i -jw<^  ^ty,-.-! 


334 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


he  found  dreamily  murmuring  in  his  sleep  fragments  of  lessons 
learned  in  a  pious  home.  "      :^ 

In  these  two  instances  the  audiences  were  at  liberty  to  go 
or  stay,  but  the  third  audience  to  be  mentioned  in  illustration 
of  the  revolutions  of  the  wheel  of  life,  was  spell  bound;  it  could 
not  turn  its  back  on  the  speaker  for  the  reason  that  the  hearers 
were  penitentiary  convicts  in  The  Charlestown  State  Prison. 
Among  the  convicts  listening  to  Don's  sermon  were  four  'long- 
time' men,  prematurely  old,  and  with  every  vicious  trait  of 
their  characters  becoming  more  and  more  legibly  written  in 
their  crime-hardened  countenances  with  every  passing  year. 
Two  of  these  men  were  the  thieves  who  burglarized  the  Von- 
berg  house,  and  who  v/ere  convicted  in  consequence  of  Don's 
discovery  of  them  in  Copp's  Hill  Burying  Ground.  The  other 
two  were  the  men  concerned  in  Don's  subsequent  abduction. 
The  recognition  was  mutual.  The  preacher  pitied  them,  but 
they  would  have  killed  him  without  hesitation  had  circum- 
stances favored  the  execution  of  their  vengeance.  There 
comes  a  time  in  the  destiny  of  men  when,  because  of  the  invinc- 
ible force  of  habit  it  must  be  said:  "He  that  is  unjust,  let  him 
be  unjust  still;  and  he  that  is  righteous,  let  him  be  righteous 
still." 

But  to  turn  to  less  serious  things.  The  Lady  of  The  Lake, 
after  having  been  in  commission  as  a  pleasure  craft  for  several 
years,  was  turned  over  to  Father  Taylor,  who  converted  her 
into  a  floating  reading  room  for  the  benefit  of  the  sailors.  A 
September  gale  of  wind  that  was  no  respector  of  vessels  finally 
wrested  her  from  her  fastenings  and  hurled  her  against  the 
stone  dock  of  The  Charlestown  Navy  Yard  with  such"  ruthless 
force  that,  like  The  One  Hoss  Shay,  she  crumbled  into  nothing 
and  vanished  away. 


'^^U^''-^yi^i-^iii0, 


ments  of  lessons 

at  liberty  to  go 
d  in  illustration 
bound;  it  could 
that  the  hearers 
m  State  Prison, 
were  four  'long- 
vicious  trait  of 
gibly  written  in 
•y  passing  year, 
larized  the  Von- 
quence  of  Don's 
und.    The  other 
juent  abduction, 
pitied  them,  but 
ion  had  circum- 
ngeance.    There 
use  of  the  invinc- 
is  unjust,  let  him 
lim  be  rigliteous 

idy  of  The  Lake, 
craft  for  several 
10  converted  her 
f  the  sailors.  A 
of  vessels  finally 
her  against  the 
ith  suclv  ruthless 
sled  into  nothing 


ri  •-» 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


Several  of  the  original  members  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake 
Club  are  still  alive. 

"Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife, 
Their  sober  wishes  never  learned  to  stray;    " 
Along  the  cool,  sequestered  vale  of  life 

They  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way." 

One  of  them,  Arnold  Doane,  wandered  far  and  saw  much, 
but  with  the  great  longing  of  a  tender  nature  he  returned  to 
the  scenes  of  his  youth,  where  by  his  own  ingleside  he 
musingly  recalls  the  words  that  were  more  than  once  recited 
or  read  in  the  cabin  of  The  Lady  of  The  Lake: 

"The  boast  of  Heraldry,  the  pomp  of  Power, 

And  all  that  Beauty,  all  that  Wealth  e'er  gave. 
Await,  alike,  th'  inevitable  hour; 

The  paths  of  Glory  lead  but  to  the  grave." 

"Time  has  taught  me  many  wholesome  lessons  and  has 
weeded  from  my  heart  many  noxious  things,"  said  The  Rev. 
John  Paul  Lovejoy  with  deep  sincerity  to  Don,  whom  he  had 
met  at  a  great  religious  convention.  "It  has  taught  me  that  I 
did  a  great  wrong  when  I  turned  you  from  my  door  so  impa- 
tiently, and  has  weeded  from  my  heart  that  selfish  pride  which 
made  me  more  ambitious  of  preaching  great  sermons  than  of 
helping  the  poor  and  the  needy." 

Don  looked  at  the  veteran  with  brimming  eyes  and 
responding  heartily  and  forgivingly,  said:  "Now  that  I  am  in 
the  ministry  myself,  I  realize  what  temptations  focalize  them- 
selves upon  the  pulpit.  And  there,  if  anywhere,  one  should 
sincerely  pray:  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us 
from  evil.  Your  present  disposition  makes  ample  amends  for 
any  mistakes  you  may  have  formerly  committed." 

"If  they  could  be  amended  as  easily  as  you  forgive  them  I 


^' 


%-M 


1 


■*r 


'ii 


Tipwr? 


336 


AIR    CASTLE    DON 


should  experience  less  pain  whenever  I  see  you  or  hear  your 
name  mentioned,"  he  sadly  replied.  "Every  mistake  is  a  nail 
driven;  we  may  withdraw  the  nail,  but  we  cannot  efface  the 
mark  it  leaves." 

A  very  handsome  and  elegantly  dressed  M)ung  woman 
standing  near  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  the  conversation  to  end, 
seeing  which  both  men  paused. 

"I  must  apologize  for  interrupting  you,"  she  said,  address- 
ing Don,  "yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  speaking  to  you,  for  I  am 
the  eldest  daughter  of  that  family  you  saved  from  freezing  and 
starving  to  death  during  the  great  snow  storm.  Thanks  for 
your  timely  aid  and  subsequent  fidelity  we  have  prospered  ever 
since.  This  is  my  husband,  who  is  with  me,  and  he  wishes  me 
to  introduce  him  to  you." 

McElwin,  the  husband,  a  delegate  to  the  convention,  and  a 
fine  looking  fellow,  joined  his  wife  in  her  acknowledgements, 
and  begged  him  to  make  their  house  his  home  while  he  was  in 
Providence. 

Doctor  Lovej»5y  could  not  but  hear  the  conversation;  and 
that  which  was  the  occasion  of  supreme  satisfaction  to  Don, 
was  a  painful  reminder  to  himself.  Don  was  finding  the  bread 
he  had  cast  upon  the  waters  in  his  youth,  while  the  Doctor, 
havinr^  sown  so  sparingly,  was  reaping  nothing  but  the  thistles 
of  regret. 

The  three  days  Don  spent  with  the  McElwins  in  no  wise 
diminished  the  satisfaction  he  experienced  when  they  first 
acknowledged  their  indebtedness  to  him,  although  he  took 
good  care  to  let  tlicm  know  that  but  for  the  noble  people  who 
stood  back  of  him  he  could  not  have  rendered  the  substantial 
aid  he  did. 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  McElwin,  "if  you  had  not  braved  that 
storm,  I  should  not  be  here  to-day,  for  when  you  entered  our 


AIIl    0A8TLB    DON 


837 


you  or  hear  your 

mistake  is  a  nail 

cannot  efface  the 

;d  young  woman 
nversation  to  end, 

she  said,  address- 
T  to  you,  for  I  am 
from  freezing  and 
orm.  Thanks  for 
ive  prospered  ever 

and  he  wishes  me 

convention,  and  a 
cknowledgements, 
ne  while  he  was  in 

conversation;  and 
itisfaction  to  Don, 
s  finding  the  bread 

while  the  Doctor, 
ing  but  the  thistles 

;Elwins  in  no  wise 
d  when  they  first 
although  he  took 
:  noble  people  who 
red  the  substantial 

d  not  braved  that 
;n  you  entered  our 


room,  the  deadly  numbness  which  precedes  freezing  was 
already  stealing  through  my  veins.  And  notwithstanding  my 
efforts  to  keep  my  sisters  covered,  they  also  complained  of  the 
symptoms  that  were  seizing  me." 

Her  father  was  doing  well,  and  with  his  family  also  lived  in 
Providence.  Don  visited  them  with  the  daughter  and  received 
a  welcome  that  was  as  warm  as  the  fire  that  he  started  with  the 
bundle  of  tracts  on  the  day  of  his  first  visit. 

"I  have  often  laughed  at  the  zeal  with  which  you  distributed 
your  tracts  in  that  stove,"  he  said,  alluding  to  the  incident, 
"but  am  always  sobered  by  the  thought  that,  after  all,  they 
wrought  the  salvation  that  my  family  and  I  stood  most  in  need 
of  at  that  moment.  We  were  saved  as  by  fire  literally;  two 
hours  more  and  we  should  have  frozen  to  death." 

"Yes,  I  have  already  told  him  that,"  said  his  daughter. 

"Well,  it  can't  be  told  too  often,"  remarked  Amelie,  the 
second  daughter.  "The  saving  of  seven  lives  in  one  day  ought 
to  have  secured  for  Mr.  Donalds  a  medal  of  gold." 

"I  have  already  received  more  than  gold  can  measure," 
Don  responded.  "Success  in  helping  our  fellow  beings  is  its 
own  best  reward."  And  as  he  spoke  he  recalled  Bert's  objec- 
tions to  his  going  forth  on  that  eventful  morning,  and  his  con- 
fessions when  informed  of  what  had  been  done. 

And  now  it  is  time  to  say  that  Bert  married  Dorothy  Von- 
berg  and  finally  removed  to  Chicago,  the  Chicago  which  he 
had  always  thought  of  with  fear  and  trembling,  and  spoken  of 
with  the  most  depreciating  words  he  could  cull  from  his  vocab- 
ulary. He  has  a  book  establishment  of  his  own  in  the  city  and 
firmly  believes  that  sooner  or  later  Chicago  will  become  the 
literary  center  of  the  United  States.  He  is  as  extravagant  in 
his  praise  of  The  Western  Metropolis  as  he  formerly  was  in 
its  disparagement.     And  whether  the  temperature  be  hot  or 


■■.'A 


Vi4f 


888 


AIR    OASTLB    DON 


cold,  and  the  air  currents  calm  or  cyclonic,  he  maintains 
against  all  comers  that  there  is  no  place  like  Chicago.  He 
even  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  her  stock-yards  and  elevators, 
and  her  cliflf  buildings,  parks  and  boulevards  are  the  wonders 
of  the  world,  while  the  hearts  of  her  citizens  are  as  big  as  her 
Ferris  Wheel,  and  as  nimble  as  the  highest  grade  bicycle. 
Dorothy  shares  his  enthusiasm,  and  when  her  father,  the 
major,  accompanied  by  Colonel  Wickworth  and  his  wife,  vis- 
ited her  on  Sylvan  avenue,  they,  highly  seasoned  Bostonians 
though  they  were,  quite  readily  conceded  that  Chicago  was  by 
no  means  the  worst  city  in  the  world. 

"Colonel  Wickworth  and  his  wife!"  exclaims  the  reader. 
"How  did  that  superannuated  old  bachelor  happen  to  get 
married?" 

By  taking  Bert's  mother  to  Don  with  a  license  made  out  in 
due  form,  and  having  The  Reverend  Don  Donalds  unite  them 
according  to  rites  and  ceremonies  made  and  provided  for  such 
emergencies.  He  began  his  journey  towards  matrimony  by 
visiting  Don  in  the  first  place,  and  continued  it  by  visiting  the 
widow,  in  the  second  place;  and  completed  it  by  taking  her 
and  going  to  Don,  as  aforesaid.  Old  as  they  were,  Don  per- 
formed the  ceremony  with  great  satisfaction,  for  he  knew  that 
two  hearts  which  had  showered  unstinted  kindness  upon  him 
would  not  be  lacking  in  kindness  toward  each  other. 
Besides,  he  had  performed  the  ceremony  for  Professor  Kras- 
inski  and  his  bride,  the  daughter  of  his  friend.  Deacon  Snow: 
and  why,  therefore,  should  he  not  rejoice  to  do  the  same  for  the 
colonel  and  the  widow? 

Gipsy's  satisfaction  arising  from  the  union  was  palatably 
seasoned  by  the  reflection,  that,  how  that  her  mother  and  the 
colonel  were  one,  neither  Miss  Agincourt  nor  Deacon  Wick- 
worth, in  the  event  of  the  colonel's  departure  for  another 


4 


-y..-v5 


ic,  he  maintains 
ce  Chicago.  He 
ds  and  elevaloi-s, 
arc  the  wonders 
are  as  big  as  her 
t  grade  bicycle, 
her  father,  the 
ind  his  wife,  vis- 
oned  Bostonians 
;  Chicago  was  by 

aims  the  reader. 
•  happen  to  get 

ense  made  out  in 
maids  unite  them 
)rovided  for  such 
is  matrimony  by 
it  by  visiting  the 
it  by  taking  her 
(T  were,  Don  per- 
for  he  knew  that 
ridness  upon  him 
ird  each  other. 
Professor  Kras- 
i,  Deacon  Snow: 
>  the  same  for  the 

Dn  was  palatably 
r  mother  and  the 
)r  Deacon  Wick- 
ture  for  another 


AIB   0A8TLB    DON 


889 


world,  before  they  were  ready  to  go,  could  by  even  the  most 
sanguine  stretch  of  expectation  hope  to  derive  benefit  from  VU 
demise.  In  her  judgment  it  was  poetically  just  that  Don,  who 
had  suffered  so  much  through  their  instrumentality,  should 
perform  the  ceremony  which  turned  their  hopes  into  despair. 
Bert  sympathized  with  her  views  and  so  did  Dorothy  and  the 
major  and  his  two  sons,  Wilhelm  and  Werner.  Jf,  in  some 
instances  variety  is  the  spice  of  life,  in  others  unanimity  is  the 
wine,  for  even  Don  himself  chuckled  when  he  thought  of  Ara- 
bella's and  the  deacon's  chagrin  and  disappointment. 

But  the  reader  is  waiting  for  the  announcement  of  the 
union  of  Don  and  Gipsy  in  tho  bonds  of  matrimony.  That 
announcement  cannot  be  made  because  it  did  not  take  place. 

What!  Not  married?  Did  they  not  love  each  other? 
Yes,  certainly.  Did  they  not  kiss  each  other?  Yes,  but  only 
on  two  occasions.  Did  not  Gipsy  throw  herself  into  Don's 
arms  when  Hannah  Screechum  was  supposed  to  be  in  camp? 
Yes;  but  she  got  out  of  them  as  soon  as  it  was  known  that  the 
bell-ringing  and  weird  laughter  and  ghostly  shrieks  were  all 
owing  to  the  struggles  of  an  unromantic  shark  whose  love  of 
raw  beef  had  gotten  him  into  a  peck  of  trouble. 

But  they  did  not  marry  each  other  for  three  good  reasons. 
Their  love  began  too  early,  and  consequently  they  outgrew  it 
as  boys  and  girls  outgrow  their  knickerbockers  and  their  short 
dresses.  The  everlasting  loves  ot  callow  youth  are  apt  to 
prove  the  neverlasting  crudities  of  mere  sentimental  impulse — 
the  morning  cloud  and  early  dew  which  vanish  away  under  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun  of  the  maturer  life. 

The  second  reason  was  that  Gipsy  became  a  teacher  in  a 
fimale  seminary;  and  teachers  in  female  seminaries  get  to  be 
« o  good  and  learned  that  they  dry  up  and  are  blown  away.    At 


msmmm 


warn 


wmm 


AtB   OASTLB    DON 


any  rate,  after  Gipsy  went  into  the  seminary,  Don  lost  sight  #f 
her  altogether. 

And  in  the  last  place,  as  the  preacher  says,  and  generally  to 
the  great  relief  of  his  listeners,  Don  married  another — a  daugh- 
ter of  the  man  whose  family  he  had  been  the  means  of  saving 
from  starvation  and  death — ^the  sister  of  Mrs.  McElwins,  whose 
beauty,  modesty,  amiability  all  blending  with  an  indescribable 
piquancy  of  character  captured  him  in  enduring  bonds  while 
he  was  at  her  father's  house  in  Providence. 

But  here  we  must  end,  for  their  love  for  each  other  is 
another  story.  *  :— ' 

THE  END. 


...^  '^  ■  ■  t"^;  ■^'■' 


iaigr«iifSyiaiiiMi>fiMg' 


I 


...;,»,         , 


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